


Love At First Science

by thecirclesquare



Series: Love At First Science [1]
Category: Orphan Black (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-23
Packaged: 2018-03-14 18:08:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 21
Words: 44,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3420506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecirclesquare/pseuds/thecirclesquare
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cophine AU set in San Francisco. It started out as a short one based on the prompt: Delphine and Cosima meeting for the first time somewhere and Delphine falling for her instantly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was a beautiful day in San Francisco, which I had heard was unusual. It was my first time visiting that city, you see. In fact, it was my first time visiting the States, ever.

San Francisco was Josh's hometown. We had met in Paris. He was an art student and he was very handsome. He was an American in Paris, and ever since I was a kid, I had always had a thing for pretty Americans. He was a terrible kisser, but it was fun to speak English with him, so I kept him around. I guess, as the months passed, I grew fond of him, and when he asked if I wanted to visit his hometown over the summer, well, what girl can turn down a trip to the States?

The night that he had casually mentioned that I might join him, I played coy. I pretended like I had plenty of other things to do that summer, because no one wants to look too available. But when I got home that night, I pulled out a torn up map from my desk drawer and spread it out on my bed.

How many times had I dreamed of traveling to the States? To California? There were circles and lines on the map, old fantasies that I had traced out when I was a teenager. Now my fingers retraced the lines. Was it really happening? I had almost gone once before, by myself, just after I graduated with my first degree. But back then I had been too scared to go alone. What if Americans were as rude and as crass as everyone said?

Now, here was this cute American guy, Josh.

Josh was so Josh. He was young. He was an art student. He was handsome, charming and kind of a snob. He fit in perfectly in Paris. And he wanted me to go to the States with him.

When I accepted his invitation, I gave him a list of things I would like to do. It was an agenda, really. I handed it to him over coffee. He looked slightly overwhelmed when he saw it's length and specificity. He leaned back in his chair.

"Look, hey," he said. "This all looks great, but I'm sure my family is going to be taking up a lot of my time."

"Oh," I said. I gave him my disappointed face. "I see."

"But..I'm sure we can do some of this stuff. Just, maybe, not all of it."

"Okay," I agreed. "It doesn't really matter."

But it did matter. It mattered because, as it turned out, I spent nearly ten days with his family in the suburbs, doing absolutely nothing. Don't get me wrong, his family was lovely. They fed me wonderful breakfasts, and they fed me wonderful dinners, and in between I went to some wonderful shopping malls. But their nice, big American house sat on a hill that looked down on the San Francisco Bay. Every morning, I sat at my window and looked out at the sky line.

Why did I feel like a prisoner? I should have known. People don't want to be a tourist in their hometown. I mean, I could have lived without taking Josh to every art museum in Paris. And in case anyone is wondering, there are — how do I say this? — a shit ton of art museums in Paris.

Thursday morning I awoke with resolve. There were only three days left. I wasn't going to waste them.

"I was thinking about going into the city today," I said at breakfast.

"Oh, I'm really sorry," he said. "But I'm supposed to go golfing with the guys today."

"Golfing?" I said. "Since when do you golf?"

"I've always golfed. I never told you that before? Anyway, after that we're supposed to meet everyone for lunch."

"In that case, I'll go by myself. I really want to see this California Academy of Sciences," I said. I had the brochure laid out on the table. And it was true. I was dying to see it. I could hardly contain the excitement in my voice. "I really want to see the white alligator."

"White alligator, huh? So, you're going to go alone?" he said.

"Yes, why not?"

"Do you think you can get there by yourself?"

"I've got a smartphone, don't I?"

As it turned out, he rearranged his plans and followed me into the city that day. We headed straight for Golden Gate Park. It was a beautiful day, and there was a beautiful view of the bridge.

"Let's ask someone to take our picture!" I said.

"Really?"

He looked suddenly embarrassed.

"Yeah, why not?"

I reached out to a young man in a baseball cap. He was about Josh's age.

"Excuse me, sir," I said.

"It's just so cliche," Josh said. "Don't you think?"

"Excuse me, sir," I said again to the man. "Can you take our picture?"

"Sure," he said as he turned around.

"No, no," Josh said to the man. "Nevermind. That's okay."

The man shrugged his shoulders and walked away from us.

Now, normally, I'm a pretty agreeable person. My feathers don't get ruffled very often. But Josh had been rubbing me the wrong way since we had arrived on American soil. I decided to give him a very small piece of my mind.

"I don't care if it's cliche," I said. "Waiting for hours to go up to the top of the Eiffel Tower is pretty cliche, too. But you didn't see me make a sour face, did you? Besides, it's just a picture."

"Fine."

"And how many selfies did you take up there? Like a million!" I added.

"Alright," he said. "Fine."

"I didn't come half way across the world to just be your French trophy. I came here to be a tourist! And I intend to tour."

"Alright, I get it!"

But I could tell by the tone in his voice that he didn't really. He just wanted to shut me up. I guess he thought that I looked like a crazy foreigner, and maybe I did. I gathered myself, took a deep breath and continued walking.

Let it suffice to say that by the time we arrived at the California Academy of Sciences, we were both a little on edge.

We went to the aquarium first. I heard that is where they kept a rare white alligator. I grabbed an informational map and headed straight for the exhibit. I was excited, and not even Josh could ruin that. He grumbled to himself as he trailed behind me.

"Ugh," he said. "Look at all these kids."

"It's an aquarium," I said. "What did you expect?"

"Exactly."

"If you don't like it," I said, as nonchalantly as I could, "You can just wait outside."

"No, no. Let's see this alligator."

"It should be right around here."

I double checked the map but when I looked up, I couldn't see anything save for a huge crowd of kids standing right in front of me. They were a school group with matching t-shirts and backpacks. They stood together, some fidgeting, some daydreaming, some listening to a young woman that led them to a large tank. She spoke with lots of enthusiasm, using her hands to emphasize points of interest.

 _She doesn't look like a school teacher_ , I thought.

First of all, her hair was pulled back into neat dreadlocks. She wore an assortment of colorful bracelets on both of her wrists; I heard the bracelets jingle with every hand gesture. She had on dark eyeliner and thick rimmed glasses. But all of that seemed to clash with her blue polo shirt and khaki shorts.

Without realizing it, I moved towards her. So did others. Soon a crowd was gathered around her. Soon, I was close enough to see the logo on her polo.

 _She's an employee!_ I thought. _Now that makes sense!_

"Does anybody know where the word alligator comes from?" she asked.

"No!" the children replied in chorus.

I spotted their actual teacher on the periphery of the group. She was dressed in jeans, sneakers and a t-shirt to match her students. How had I missed her before?

"Well, actually, it comes from the Spanish language," the guide continued. "When the first Spanish explorers came to what is now Florida, they called these animals 'el legarto,' which simply means 'the lizard.' But over time, English speakers took that name and anglicized it into the word that we use today."

I couldn't help but stare at her. There was something about her...

"Go ahead," she said. "Try it out. 'El lagarto' and 'alligator.' They're almost the same, aren't they?"

The children murmured to themselves. I found myself mouthing the words, too, testing them out on my tongue.

She looked up at me then, smiling a lovely smile. I stopped myself, my mouth open, the tip of my tongue against the back of my teeth, the short "a" vowel dropping off suddenly. I felt hot and self-conscious. She laughed and returned her attention to the crowd.

I looked at Josh, to see if he had noticed the interaction, but he was standing several meters away, texting on his phone.

When I turned back toward her, our eyes met again. She raised her eyebrows, as if to say hello. I glanced around, certain she must be looking at someone else.

No, there was no one else.

When our eyes met a third time, I smiled.

Then it was time for the school group to move on.

"It's been a privilege to speak with you guys today," she said. "Thanks for letting me show you around the aquarium. I hope to see you all again!"

"Thank you so much," the teacher said as she corralled her students down the hallway, "You were fantastic."

"Oh, it's my pleasure," she said.

As the group moved on, she picked up a clipboard and began flipping through it's pages.

I watched her, and in my watching, I was drawn closer. I moved right along side her.

"You're really great with kids," I said.

She looked up from her clipboard and laughed. "Thanks. But it's all an act."

"Well, it's a pretty convincing one. Do you want to be a teacher?" I asked.

"No," she said. She hugged the clipboard to her chest. "Evolutionary biologist."

My ears perked up.

"Really?" I said.

"Yeah," she said. "This is just a part time gig. You know... gotta pay the bills."

"Right. Of course," I said. I was distracted by her lean arms, which she crossed over her chest.

 _Oh my god,_ I thought. _Am I checking her out?_

She turned away for a moment, and I was afraid she might leave.

"But you know, it's not easy," I said.

"What's that?" she said.

"The sciences," I said. "I mean, being a woman in the sciences."

"Do you speak from experience?"

"Actually, yes. I'm currently working on my PhD in immunology."

"Wow," she said.

She said it coolly, as she looked me up and down. There was that hot feeling again.

"What? You don't believe me?"

I think I was blushing. I think I had to look away for a minute.

"No," she stammered. "It's just..."

Then she reached out her hand.

"I'm Cosima."

I took her hand.

"I'm Delphine," I said, and then because I couldn't stop myself, I added, "Enchantée."

"Enchantée."

Her American accent tickled me.

_Is she flirting with me? Am I flirting back?_

Then Josh showed up.

"So, is this the albino alligator that you've been talking about?" he said.

Cosima took a step away. I think she coughed. She started flipping through the pages of her clipboard again.

"Uh, yes," I said. "But I'm not sure if it's albino."

"What do you mean? Aren't all white animals called albinos?" he said.

"Let's ask Cosima," I said. I still wasn't ready to let her go.

"Who?" Josh said.

"Cosima, is this alligator an albino?" I asked.

"Who, Claude?" she said. "Actually, yes, he is."

"Oh," I said. "Because I wasn't sure if he was leucistic or not?"

I saw Cosima's eyes light up. I saw Josh's eyes cloud over.

"It's funny that you mention it," Cosima said. "Most people don't even know about Leucism."

"Well," I said. "I guess I'm not most people."

"No, you definitely aren't that."

"What's Leucism?" Josh said.

"Leucism is a genetic condition caused by the presence of a recessive gene. It causes the organism to have reduced pigmentation," Cosima said.

My heart was beating faster with every word. I think I was sweating.

"Isn't that the same thing?" Josh said.

"Well, not exactly. Leucism causes a reduction in all types of skin pigment, not just..." she said.

"Melanin," we said in stereo.

"Of course," I said. "Albinism is characterized only by a reduction in melanin. Which is why Claude's eyes are white, too."

"Exactly," Cosima said. "If our good friend Claude here was leucistic, he would probably have normal pigmentation in his eyes. Like the alligators they have in New Orleans."

I laughed. I'm not sure why I laughed, but maybe I laughed because she laughed. Or maybe it was the other way around. Either way, Josh was completely left in the dust.

"Anyway," he said. "It's still a white alligator and it's still creepy."

"No," I said. "He's not creepy. He's incredibly rare."

"I'm gonna go find something to eat," Josh said.

 _Thank God!_ I thought.

"Okay," I said. "I'll be right there."

I watched him walk away. Cosima watched me watch him.

"I'm sorry about him," I said.

"It's fine," she said. "He's not a science guy. I get it."

"No, he's definitely not," I said. "But I am...a science girl."

Her smile was huge — her laugh gorgeous.

"Yeah," she said. "I kinda got that."

There was an awkward silence.

She hugged her clipboard to her chest and took a step toward me. She leaned against Claude's tank, and I realized that I was leaning, too.

_How long have I been leaning?_

"Hey," she said. "There's this thing tonight, called Nightlife. It's kinda like a nightclub, but it's here in the museum."

"Oh really?" I said. "That sounds interesting."

"Yeah, it is. I mean there's gonna be a DJ and all the exhibits will still be open. And there's alcohol."

"Science and alcohol? Those are two of my favorite things."

"Right?! Me too!"

I glanced over her shoulder, but Josh was already out of sight.

"Well, are you going to be there, Cosima?" I asked. I felt butterflies when I said her name, and I wasn't sure why.

"Most definitely," she said. "You should come, Delphine."

"Yeah, maybe," I said, because I didn't want to sound too eager. "What time does it start?"

"Well, I'll be here after nine."

"Nine? Okay."

"Okay," she said. "I guess I'll see you then."

"Yeah," I said. "Maybe."

Maybe I was sick of feeling like a prisoner or sick of feeling like I had no friends. Either way, I really, really wanted to see this woman again. I even wanted to keep in touch, you know, for a long time. It was irrational, but it was true.

I backed away, intending to find Josh, but when I was halfway down the hall I stopped.

"Um, hey, Cosima?"

"Yeah?"

She turned around.

 _Oh my god!_ I thought. _Is she blushing? She's totally blushing!_

"I'm not sure…" I started.

But her red cheeks were distracting.

"I'm not sure... that I will be able to find you tonight, so maybe... can I get your phone number?"

She hit her own forehead with the palm of her hand.

"Oh, yeah, of course!" she said.

I gave her my phone, standing entirely too close to her as she typed in her number. I don't know what I expected her to smell like, but she didn't smell like I expected. She smelled like...baby powder.

"There," she said. "Now you can find me."

"Cool," I said.

"Cool," she said.

I touched my own cheek as I backed away. I was flirting and I couldn't help myself.

"I'll see you later then," I said. "After nine."

"Yeah, see you later."

"Later, gator," I said, and then I quickly wished I hadn't said it.

But she laughed and gave me a small wave.

I had to turn around then. I must have been as red as a beet.

 _Oh my god,_ I thought. _I think I'm kind of falling for her._

Like I said, I always knew I had a thing for pretty Americans. But what I was just figuring out, was that I had an even bigger thing for pretty, scientific Americans with thick rimmed glasses and nice arms. Who knew?


	2. Chapter 2

As Josh and I walked out of the aquarium, it became obvious that I would have to lose him.

Though, at that moment, I thought it was only temporary.

"I would like to go to this Nightlife thing tonight," I said.

"What? We are supposed to meet everyone for dinner," he said. "I already promised."

"Well, why don't you go by yourself?" I said. "I'm sure your friends won't miss me. They probably want to spend time with you... alone."

"No way," he said. Then he pulled out that word that Americans love — baby.

"They love you, baby," he said. "They're all crazy about you."

"Well, I really want to stay in the city tonight," I said. "So..."

"So, what are you saying?" he said, half-calm, half-condescending.

"I'm not sure," I said. "I mean... I guess I'm saying... I'm not going with you."

"You can't be serious," he said.

"Non," I said. "I'm definitely serious."

"Why are you being like this?" he asked.

"I'm not being like anything," I said. "I think I have been perfectly polite to all of your friends and family, and they have all been lovely, but now I'm going to do what I want."

"And you want to go to this Nightlife thing?" he said. "That's what you really want?"

I nodded my head. I stood with my arms crossed. I would not move. I could not be physically moved from that spot.

But as I watched his face, as I watched him consider his options, when I thought for a moment that he would relent, that he would sigh and say, okay, I'll come with you; that's when I realized that was the very last thing that I wanted.

I imagined passing the entire evening, with him by my side, nagging me. I imagined passing the evening staring at Cosima from a distance. Or worse, trying to have a conversation with her, while he was standing right next to me. I knew I would blush and Josh would see me blush. And I knew that I wouldn't be able to bear it.

_Why does Cosima make me blush, but Josh doesn't? Did he ever make me blush?_

"Just go, Josh," I said. "Go be with your friends. I'll be fine."

"What am I going to tell them? They'll all be asking for you," he said.

That's when I realized that his hesitation had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with his own embarrassment — self-involved to the end.

"I don't know," I said. I could hardly hide the contempt in my voice. "I'm sure you'll think of something."

"Are you mad at me or something?" he said.

I laughed suddenly. "Yeah, I guess I am," I said.

_Because you never made me blush!_

"I just don't get it," he said. "I opened my house to you. My family was kind to you. My friends were kind to you. I just don't get what you want."

"And that's the problem!" I said. I shouted it. Passers-by were staring.

_You can't even conceive that I would want something. I'm just the French girl - another souvenir for you to show off to your snobby friends. Well, guess what, Josh? I'm not an object! I have opinions and desires!_

That is what I wish I had said. But instead, I said nothing. Instead, we stood there, staring at each other, the distance between us growing by the second.

"Look," he said. "I don't know why you are making such a big deal about this aquarium, but whatever, I don't even care. I'm gonna go, and you can stay if you want. But I'm just letting you know, that if you don't come with me now..."

"Then what?" I said.

"Then don't come back."

I felt a strange mix of relief and anger when he said that. All at once, I knew that I didn't want to go back to his house, but I was also angry that he had thought of it first.

I wanted to be the one throwing around the ultimatums.

"I don't intend to," I said.

I said it like a child, and maybe I should have felt ashamed, except that it was the truth.

"You've got to be kidding me," he said. "You're serious?"

"Completely serious," I said.

"Fine," he said.

"Fine," I said.

_And you're a terrible kisser! And you never made me blush!_

And it ended like that, with that one word. He walked away, and I sat on a bench for a very long time, trying to figure out if I was the jerk in this situation.

Eventually, my stomach drove me to my feet. I found a small cafe near the park. As soon as I walked in I could tell it was the perfect place to be moody, that is was the perfect place to contemplate my recent breakup (and possibly my sexual identity) over a cup of coffee and a ham sandwich.

_Why didn't Josh ever make me blush? And why haven't I noticed it before? How many people have made me blush? I can't even remember the last one..._

I went through the list of men in my recent past, and I was starting to notice a pattern. I always dated handsome men. They were always men that other women drooled over. But I, myself, always thought I wasn't the drooling type. I just thought it was easy. It was easy to get those men that every girl wanted, so that's what I did. It was just something that I was good at.

The waitress approached me. She was wearing a tight, white t-shirt that emphasized her large breasts. She reached for the notepad in her black apron. She didn't look anything like Cosima, but I thought I'd test the waters a little. She was a beautiful woman. If someone was attracted to women, that person would definitely be attracted to her.

"Can I get you anything else today?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. I flashed her my best smile. "Another cup of coffee, please. What do Americans call it? A cup of Joe?"

"No problem," she said. She matched my smile, tooth for tooth. "I'll be right back."

When she returned with a new coffee. She set it on the table in front of me, and she leaned strategically close to my shoulder.

"Here you go," she said. "One cup of American Joe."

"Merci," I said, because I know Americans love to hear it.

Then she placed a small plate on the table. In the center of the plate, there were two small chocolates in little paper wrappers.

"This," she said, "is on the house."

"How wonderful!" I said. "I love chocolate. How did you know?"

"Let's just say I had a feeling," she said. "Let me know if you need anything else."

I am pretty sure that she winked at me before she walked away.

 _Well,_ I thought, _I guess I'm good at that, too_.

Aside from my sense of accomplishment at that moment, I was also taking stock of my body and it's bodily reactions. I was not blushing. My palms weren't sweating. I wasn't inexplicably leaning on things. In fact, I felt nothing for that waitress at all. The little experiment had gotten me nowhere.

Granted, the sample pool was very small, but so far, I was only 50/50 in my attraction to women. But I was one hundred percent sure of my attraction to Cosima.

I looked at my watch. It was only three o'clock. Now that I had a full stomach, I decided to take advantage of my new found freedom. I asked the waitress where I could catch a cable car. She leaned over the counter and wrote out detailed instructions on a napkin, along with her phone number.

"Oh, I'm just visiting," I said.

"Well," she said. "Let me know if you need a guide."

I politely declined, but the truth was, I could have used a guide. I had six hours to kill, and no real plan. I was in San Francisco, U.S.A. and I had just met someone who made me blush.

And despite having just gone through a breakup in a foreign country, I felt great!

I took the closest cable car and rode it around the city. And though I couldn't really tell you where it went, or where I was, I have a very lucid memory of watching the little houses come and go on those hilly streets.

I have a distinct memory of the feeling — the feeling of possibility.

Eventually, I got off and took a stroll. I didn't want to get too far away from the Golden Gate Park because I had an irrational fear that I wouldn't be able to find my way back.

As I walked down the street, I passed a flower shop. Suddenly, as if by someone else's will, I had a strong urge to buy a bouquet of roses. Or perhaps, I would just buy one single rose.

But no, I couldn't. I had never been so romantic before.

As I stood in front of that store, I wondered at the stranger in the reflection. Who was this woman, suddenly romantic, suddenly silly, suddenly charmed over a girl.

As I stood in front of that store, these were the things that I had worked out:

_Cosima makes me lean on things._

_Cosima makes me want to buy flowers._

_Cosima makes me blush._

_That's quite a lot for a stranger._

_That's quite a lot after one conversation._

But my reflection had no answers for me. She just smiled and shrugged. That's when I noticed that she was still dressed in jeans, and a tank top. Her hair was a mess, and I was sure that she must not smell good. What she needed was a make-over and fast.

I kept walking.

When I saw the dress, I knew it was perfect. I went into the small shop and pointed to the black dress they had in the display window.

"Gotta hot date?" the shop girl asked me. She oh'd and ah'd over me as I checked my reflection in the mirror. She pulled the zipper up my back.

"Actually, yes," I said. "Or, at least, I think so."

"Well, you're gonna knock his socks off in that dress," she said.

"That's the idea, isn't it?" I said. But as I said it, I wondered if it was the idea.

_Do I want to knock her socks off?_

_Do I want to knock any other items of her clothing off?_

_Would I even know what to do_ — _when her socks were off?_

_Will she even be wearing socks to begin with?_

Regardless of my intentions, I said I would take the dress. I charged it on my card and didn't look back. The only problem was, I didn't have anywhere to take the dress to. I stood out on the sidewalk, with the dress in my hand. It was carefully hung up and wrapped in plastic. I had nowhere to go, nowhere to change, and nowhere to keep the clothes that I was already wearing.

I checked my watch. I was running out of time. I hailed a taxi with my free hand.

"Where to?" the driver asked me.

"Take me to a nice hotel by the Golden Gate Park," I said.

"Any nice hotel by Golden Gate Park?" he said.

"Yes," I said. "The closer, the better."

"Those places aren't cheap," he said.

"That's okay," I said. "I'm on vacation in America!"

I had three hours until I saw her again.

_Three hours!_

Suddenly and simultaneously, my future was full of possibilities and completely lacking in certainty. Every cell in my body surged with potential energy. I was at the peak of a rollercoaster and looking down. I felt sick to my stomach and completely thrilled.

 _All of this?_ I thought. _Over one woman?_


	3. Chapter 3

I arrived back at the aquarium at 9 o'clock on the dot. I thought about being fashionably late, because I didn't want to appear too eager, but then I decided that I didn't care if I appeared too eager.

I was too eager, and I wanted the world to know it.

Also, I only had two and a half days left in America. I had even less time with Cosima. I couldn't bear the thought of wasting even a second!

I found her right away. She was leaning over a glass tank and talking about starfish. A young couple was listening to her and laughing. When I saw her, my insides were gasping. She wasn't wearing a polo and khaki shorts anymore. She was wearing a tight, red cocktail dress. She was wearing black stockings that were woven with intricate details, and over them she wore leather boots that came up to her ankle and made her look taller. Her dreadlocks were pulled up into a bun on her head. Her cheeks were rosy and her eyeliner was thick.

I was more than pleased to see that she had not removed her glasses.

I gave myself a mental pat on the back for dressing up. If I had showed up in jeans and a tank top, I would have been mortified.

The aquarium was transformed from the place it had been that afternoon. The exhibits were all essentially the same, but they were dramatically lit in reds, blues and greens. The atmosphere was sophisticated. All the school groups were gone. There were only chatting adults holding fancy cocktails.

 _Maybe Josh would have liked this place afterall,_ I thought.

Then I chastised myself for thinking of him.

I stood near the entrance. Maybe it was creepy, but I wanted to watch Cosima for a few moments, before she saw me. I wanted to see what she was like, naturally.

She was — in a word — charming.

Everyone who approached her was charmed by her. She pointed and talked with her hands. She encouraged others to be inquisitive. She made people laugh. She was enthusiastic. She was, well, sexy. Surely, I wasn't the only one was enamoured with her?

Then, as if her ears were burning, she looked up.

Our eyes met.

She smiled.

She waved a small wave, just like the one she gave me when I had left her that afternoon.

_Oh god, was that only this afternoon?_

I waved back.

She pointed to her watch, and then gave me a thumbs up. Clearly, she appreciated my punctuality. I walked toward her. With every step, there it was — my heartbeat.

I approached the glass tank she was leaning against. It was filled with all kinds of crustaceans, starfish and other little critters. She spoke to a couple, the man had his hand on the woman's back.

"Can we touch them?" the woman said.

"Yes, please do," Cosima said. "You absolutely have to touch the sea cucumber. That is, if you haven't touched one before?"

"No, I definitely haven't. What does it feel like?"

"Well, I don't want to spoil it for you," Cosima said. "But not like a cucumber."

The woman leaned over the tank. She dipped her finger into the water and almost immediately pulled it out. She squealed.

"Yuck! Yuck!" she said.

"Oh, come on," the man said. "It can't be that bad."

The couple continued to flirt with each other over the sea cucumber. I leaned next to Cosima.

"Bonsoir, Cosima," I said.

I tried to be as seductive as possible, but for some reason, I just couldn't lean right. The glass was too low, and so everything was awkward, but it was already too late, I had to commit to the lean.

"Hi, Delphine," she said. "You're very punctual."

She said the "p" in "punctual" with extra perky lips.

"Thank you," I said. I decided to stand up instead.

 _I couldn't wait to see you!_ I thought. But I didn't say that.

"So, how was your day?" I said instead.

"Pretty crazy," she said. She ran her hands over her head as she said it. "Kinda running all over the place, you know."

"Yes."

I couldn't stop myself from looking down at her dress.

"I noticed that you have changed."

"Oh, yeah," she said. She looked down at herself, too, suddenly self-conscious.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest. I noticed an assortment of rings on an assortment of her fingers.

"I must say," I said. "I think I prefer this outfit."

"Oh, come on," she said. "You're not a polo and khaki kind of girl?"

"Non, I'm not. Well, maybe… Sometimes."

She smiled.

Did she think I was making a joke? Like a khaki fetish joke? That wasn't my intention, but I didn't want to mention that that wasn't my intention, because then I would actually have to say the words "khaki fetish" and that wasn't something I was going to say out loud. So I stayed silent.

"So, where's your not-a-science-guy friend?" she asked finally.

"Oh, Josh?" I said. I was somehow surprised by the question. "He had a prior engagement."

"I see. So you're here alone?"

"Yep."

I ran my finger over the edge of the glass tank.

"Completely alone."

"Well," she said. "Not completely."

We stared at eachother for a moment. Her smile made me smile. Her lips were pale, as if untouched. I couldn't look away.

"Ew, gross!" the woman next to us screamed.

Cosima looked toward them. "Okay, guys," she said. "Don't harass or molest the animals, please."

As she was turned away, I caught a glimpse of her neck and her shoulders. Then I glanced again at her arms, which were still crossed in front of her chest. She was petite and muscular. I thought she might be a dancer.

 _A scientist dancer!_ I thought. _Or a dancing scientist!_

Then she turned back toward me.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Part of the job."

"It's fine," I said. "So do you have to stay here all night?"

"With the starfish?" she said. "No. No, thank god."

"Oh, ok," I said. I was relieved.

"I just have to stay until my replacement comes. She was supposed to be here at nine."

"I see."

Cosima looked around the room, as if she expected to see her replacement coming at any moment. There was an awkward silence. Should I wait there? How long would the replacement take? Was it uncomfortable for her to have me loitering? Was she still thinking about the khaki fetish thing, or was that just me?

"So, you said there is alcohol?" I said.

"Yeah. The bar is over by the alligators."

"Shall I go get us some drinks, then? I mean, are you allowed to drink on duty?"

"Unfortunately, no," she said.

I refused to be deterred.

"Well, how about this?" I said. "I will go find the bar, buy you a drink, and when you are ready, you can come find me?"

"Well, I would have to," she said. "If you already bought me a drink — I wouldn't have a choice."

"No, you wouldn't."

I started to back away from her. She was laughing to herself and shaking her head.

"Wait, Delphine!" she said. "Don't you want to touch the sea cucumber?"

"No, thanks," I said. "I don't mean to shock you, but I've touched one before."

_Oh, god! Why can't I stop with the oddly placed sexual innuendos?_

"Somehow, that doesn't surprise me," she called after me.

"Come find me," I said.

I turned to walk away before I could say anything else I would regret.

I tried my best to saunter away. Usually, I have no problem sauntering. But with every step, I felt her eyes on my back. My heart was beating so fast. I think I actually skipped for a step or two — but only after I was out of her sight.

 _I need a drink!_ I thought.


	4. Chapter 4

I told her to come find me. Unfortunately, someone else found me first. I waited for her at the edge of the dance floor with two glasses of red wine in my hands. It should have been a signal to onlookers that I was taken. It should have been.

I saw the woman approaching, long before she got to me. I tried to look away. I tried to avoid her gaze. I tried to pretend like I was looking for someone. Well, I was looking for someone, but I tried to make it really, really obvious. That did not stop her.

"Hello," she said. "What's your name?"

"I'm Delphine," I said. I couldn't be rude.

"Nice to meet you Delphine," she said. "I'm Erin. I would shake your hand, but I see that your hands are full."

"Yes," I said. "I'm waiting for my friend."

Erin was a nice looking woman. Maybe if I hadn't met Cosima already, I could have been attracted to her. But then again, if I hadn't met Cosima yet, I would have been there with Josh, instead of standing alone. No one would be hitting on me. No one would be asking my name.

 _Maybe I should just enjoy this_ , I thought.

She was, after all, attractive. She was more — what's the word — butch? She was more butch than Cosima. She wore a black blazer and jeans. She had the heavy eyeliner that I guess I liked, but there were no glasses. Maybe I could have been into her.

"So, you like wine?" she said.

 _Nevermind,_ I thought.

"Yes," I said. "I do."

"Me, too. But tonight, it's beer."

"Mhhmm."

Now, I really exaggerated my search for Cosima, turning my head this way and that.

"Wine makes me too sleepy," the woman went on.

"I see."

"Yeah, I don't like to be too sleepy at events like this. Beer gets me more excited, you know?"

"Yes. I suppose that's true."

"So, why are you drinking wine then?"

"What?" I said.

I think she repeated the question, but I didn't hear her, because I had just spotted Cosima across the dance floor. She had spotted me, too. I wonder how long she had been watching my little interaction with this woman. She smiled at me, and then raised her eyebrows, as if asking me a question. I made a face at her, as if asking her to rescue me. Then she laughed and started walking toward us. My face was getting hot. I knew I was turning red. I took a long drink of wine.

"So, why are you drinking wine then?" Erin said again.

"Oh," I said. "Um, it, uh...it makes me feel more relaxed."

"Oh, cool. By the way, is that a French accent I hear?"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, cool. So, where are you from?"

"I'm from Paris."

"Wow, Paris?" the woman said. "So, are you just visiting?"

"Yes."

I was only half-listening to her questions. Somehow I had lost Cosima in the crowd. She had stepped onto the dance floor and then she had disappeared. I felt a shock of adrenalin. Where could she have gone? Did she think I actually liked talking to this woman? Or worse, did she think I was flirting with her? I hoped she wasn't the jealous type.

"Cool," the woman went on. "So, how long are you visiting?"

"Just three days."

"Three days?!" the woman said. "All the way from Paris for just three days?"

"Well, no. Two weeks, altogether, but I only have three days left."

"Wow! Crazy!"

"Yeah," I said. I took another drink of wine. "Crazy."

Suddenly, I felt someone touch my back. I felt a hand on the small of my back, and I felt a body slide into the space next to me. I already knew it was Cosima, even before I looked down at her smiling face.

"Hey, baby," she said. Then she leaned up on her toes to kiss me on the cheek. "Thanks for getting my drink."

When she said, _baby_ , I think my knees buckled. I had always hated that word before.

And when she kissed me, I got a whiff of that baby powder smell again.

"Of course," I said.

I handed her the wine. She kept her hand on my back. She kept her hand right on the small of my back, and though it was warm through my dress, I thought that if she didn't move it soon, I would start shivering, and she would feel it.

But also, I didn't want her to move it — not at all.

The woman in the blazer looked confused.

"Oh...ehm... Cosima," I said. "This is Erin. She was keeping me company while you were gone."

"Hi, Erin" Cosima said.

She pulled her hand away to shake Erin's.

_This is what disappointment feels like._

"Hi, Cosima. Don't I know you from somewhere?"

"I'm not sure," Cosima said.

"Maybe you know her from here," I said. "She works here, you know."

"Oh, cool," Erin said. "Yeah, that must be it."

There was a moment of silence. I was still thinking about her lips on my cheek and her hand on my back. I was still wishing she would put it back. Erin looked from me to Cosima suspiciously. Cosima smiled her charming smile and glanced at me.

"Anyway," she said. "I promised to give Delphine a tour, so we'll see you around later?"

"Oh, cool," Erin said.

Cosima grabbed me by the hand and started to pull me away.

"Goodbye," I said to Erin.

"Yeah, see you around," she said.

Cosima and I giggled our way down the hall. She squeezed my hand and I squeezed hers.

We stopped in front of a large fish tank that stretched from the floor to the ceiling. Cosima let go of my hand and leaned against the glass. Her face was lit up in aqua-marine and fish-shaped shadows swam across her forehead and cheekbones. I wanted to touch her.

"I don't think she believed our little act," I said.

"Why not? I'm an excellent actress. Don't you think I'm convincing?" she said. She raised her hand and made a grand gesture, as if presenting herself to me.

"Oh, I was nearly convinced, myself," I said. "But I just told her that I've only been in the country for ten days and that I am leaving in three."

"Well," Cosima said. "Ten days is plenty of time."

She took a sip of wine. Then she looked up at me from beneath her eyelashes.

"Plenty of time for what?" I said.

"For an international love affair," she said.

She said it coolly, but I caught a hint of nervousness in her voice. It made me blush. It made me hot.

"Yes, I think you're right," I said.

 _She is also nervous!_ I thought.

"But what about three days?" I said. "Is that enough time?"

"For a love affair?"

She pushed her shoulder — just the tiniest bit — in my direction.

"Oui."

"We'll have to wait and see," she said. Then she raised her glass. "Cheers."

"Cheers."


	5. Chapter 5

She took me through the exhibits and told me tidbits about each one. But to tell the truth, most of the time I was just staring at her. I tried to be sly about it. I would nod my head and say things like _Uh-huh,_ and _Oh, really?_

But really, just staring.

I would let her trail out in front of me, so that I could see her legs, and her back. In my mind's eye, I traced the line from the bottom of her earlobe, down her neck, to the tip of her shoulder blade, her spine to her hip, and leg to ankle. I watched her calf muscles flex. I watched her ribs expand when she had to take a deep breath. She took deep breaths often, because she talked fast, her words flying out in high quantity.

"And this," she said, turning around to face me directly. "This is our newest exhibit."

She pointed to a large blue and red entrance. The sign read: _Animal Attraction._

"Oh, really?" I said. I think I was already a little tipsy.

"Animal Attraction explores some of the wildest courtship and mating strategies in the animal kingdom," Cosima said in her best tour guide voice.

"I see," I said. "That sounds rather risque."

"Are you intrigued yet?"

"I am."

As she walked, she explained, in great detail, and much to her own delight, about how the female praying mantis bites the head off of her mate.

"Yes, but everyone knows that," I said.

"Okay, then what about the snails?" she said.

"What about them?"

"They're hermaphrodites," she said. Then she thought for a minute. "And I mean, they are simultaneous hermaphrodites, unlike the clownfish, which are sequential hermaphrodites."

"Uh-huh," I said. I was getting a kick out of watching her ramble. My cheeks were warm when I smiled at her and I think it was the wine.

"Because," she continued, "clownfish develop into males first, before maturing into females. Typically there is only one dominant female in the school. If she dies, then the largest male will become female. Snails, on the other hand, they have both reproductive organs from the beginning and can simultaneously impregnate each other."

"Simultaneous hermaphrodites?" I said. "You really know how to charm a girl."

She laughed. The bracelets on her wrists jingled.

"Well, at least I didn't tell you about the part where they shoot each other with a calcified dart, just before impregnation," she said.

"I see," I said again.

"Sorry," she said. "I guess it's really not that sexy after all. All of this is kind of gross."

"Well, maybe it's not sexy," I said. "But it is interesting, isn't it?"

"What's that?" she said. She was looking extra flirty, with a bat of her eyelashes.

"All the ways creatures come up with to make sure they can pass on their genes."

"Although," Cosima said, and I heard a hint of annoyance in her voice. "Not all sex is about passing on genetic material. Not every sex act results in the production of progeny. Certainly, not in humans."

"No," I said. "I guess that's true. But generally, right?"

She was silent then. Her body language had changed. For a moment, I think I saw her scowl.

I had said something wrong, and I knew I should have been trying to figure out what that was, but I was fixated on two words that had just come out of her mouth.

_Sex act._

I kept hearing those two words repeat in my mind. I kept seeing her mouth saying them. I was curious what acts she was talking about. I wanted specifics. What, when and with whom?

 _What would that be like?_ I thought. _Sex acts with Cosima?_

"But human sexuality is a whole other topic, completely," she said. She waved her hand dismissively, as if to say, nevermind.

I hadn't noticed that I was avoiding her gaze until I looked down at her. She was blushing. She looked embarrassed, like she had said too much. Or maybe she looked angry? Then she looked down at the ground, and looked back up at me. I thought she was holding her breath.

Then it hit me.

 _She wants me to kiss her,_ I thought. _Is she waiting for me to kiss her?_

_I should kiss her. I should._

But, then, only a split-second later, she took the smallest step backwards. She released her breath and laughed a little. The moment was gone. She shook her head from side to side.

"I think I'm a little tipsy," she said.

She raised her empty glass, her cheeks still flushed.

"Yes, me, too," I said.

Suddenly, she turned and took a step away from me.

 _What have I done?_ I thought. _What did I say?_

I guessed she was leading me out of the exhibit, perhaps back toward the bar. She was looking down at her wine glass. She was running her finger around the edge of the glass. She was thinking about something. When she turned to face me, her expression was different. She wasn't tipsy-flirty anymore. She was more serious.

"So," she said. "Is Josh your boyfriend?"

"Josh?" I said. I stammered and immediately regretted it. "No."

"No?"

"Well, I mean, he was, when you met me."

"When I met you? This afternoon?"

"Yes," I said. "We broke up."

"When?"

"This afternoon... Right after we left the aquarium."

"You're kidding," she said.

Her expression was hard to pin down. I wasn't sure if she was laughing at me or with me. I wasn't sure if she was relieved or annoyed.

"Non."

"Didn't you come here for him? Why the sudden break up?"

"It wasn't really that sudden," I said. "At least, not for me. And, yes I did come here for him, I suppose... initially. "

"So then, why?"

"Well, I guess because he doesn't like science, and I do."

She thought about that answer for a second. I felt the need to reassure her. I wasn't sure where this line of questioning had come from, but it must have been something I said about the snails.

"Does that bother you?" I asked.

"Which part?" she asked.

"Oh, I don't know," I said. "The part where I had a boyfriend six hours ago?"

"Not really," she said. "Should it bother me?"

"Non," I said. But I didn't believe her when she said it didn't bother her - not for a minute.

She looked at me directly.

"Have you ever done this before?" she said.

"Done what? Met a stranger in a museum? A museum that has been made over as a nightclub? No, I can't say that I have."

"I mean, have you ever done _this_ before?" she said. She pointed back and forth between us.

She pointed the tip of her finger, first toward me and then toward her own chest. "With a woman?"

"What am I doing?" I said.

She was silent. She simply raised her eyebrows. She was waiting for a better answer.

"No," I said. "I've never done this with a woman before. In fact, I don't even know what I'm doing."

She stayed quiet. She was making me nervous. I couldn't shake the feeling that I was screwing things up.

 _That was the wrong answer!_ I told myself.

"But," I said. "I like it. Whatever this is, whatever I'm doing, I like it."

Finally, she smiled.

"Good," she said. "I like it, too."

I was relieved, but I got the feeling that I still wasn't off the hook.

"How about another drink?" I said.

"Sure."

We walked back toward the bar, and this time she didn't hold my hand. I was still trying to figure out what it was that I had said to annoy her.

 _The snails?_ I thought. _Creatures and passing on genes? And sex acts?_

As we waited for our drinks, she didn't look at me very much. I got the sense that she was still upset, but trying to act like she wasn't upset.

_So this is what all my boyfriends had told me about. This is what it's like to be on the other end of emotional ambiguity._

Well, I only had so many hours left with this woman. I didn't have time for ambiguity.

"Cosima?" I said.

"Yeah?"

She pushed her glasses up on her nose.

"It's seems like I've said something to offend you."

"No," she said. "No, it's nothing."

The bartender placed our glasses on the bar with a _clink._

Cosima handed a glass to me and she picked up the other.

"Are you sure? Because, I don't know, things were going so well, and then..."

I didn't know how to finish the sentence.

"Well," Cosima said. "Offend is such a strong word. I wouldn't say I was offended."

"Upset, though?"

"No, it's fine," she said. "You're not gay."

"Well," I said. I thought I was going to say, "No, I'm not." But then I realized that maybe that wasn't so true anymore.

"In fact," she said. "I'm guessing you don't know what you are. And that's fine. I mean, it doesn't matter, right? I mean, we're having fun, right?"

"Well," I said. "I've never really considered bisexuality. I mean, for myself. But as a scientist, I know that sexuality is a spectrum."

She smiled the smallest bit.

"And social biases, they codify attraction, even when it's contrary to the biological facts," I said.

 _Oh, god,_ I thought. _I sound like a human sexuality textbook._

"That's oddly romantic," she said.

Then she gave me that look again. She gave me her _kiss-me_ face.

Then she swallowed and added, "and totally encouraging."

This time I didn't miss the chance. I leaned forward into her. She leaned up to meet me. I kissed her, right there by the bar. I became lost in the details of her. I touched her face with my fingers. I felt the warmth of her cheek. I smelled her skin and her breath, which smelled like wine. I heard the sound of our lips parting when our bodies separated. I heard the sound of her sigh.

She moved her hand around my waist, until it was on the small of my back again. She looked up at me with her flirty smile.

"Do you want to dance?" I said.

"I don't know," she said. "Have you ever danced with a woman before?"

She was teasing me and I knew it. Then she nudged me with her elbow. I grabbed her by the hand and pulled her out onto the dance floor.


	6. Chapter 6

The dance floor was crowded, but comfortably so. At least, we could move. What I'm trying to say is, nobody was elbowing me in the ribs. And much to my delight, nobody was grinding up behind me.

I don't think I'm a good dancer. No one has ever told me that I was. Therefore, I know I must not be, because people like to give me compliments. If it was something I was good at, I would have heard about it by now.

Cosima, on the other hand, she was as graceful as she was charming. She wasn't doing much, just swaying her shoulders and hips back and forth. But it was sexy, in an effortless sort of way. She was like a gazelle, or a lion, or some other classically graceful animal. I felt a little bit like a clumsy ostrich next to her. The good thing was, I had already had two glasses of wine. Also, I was too busy watching her to notice myself, except in the most distant way. I was grinning like a fool.

The more I grinned, the more expressive her dance became. She grabbed my hands and raised them up over our heads. She turned herself around, this way and that. The loose strands of her hair flicked around. Her glasses slipped down her nose, and she pushed them back up. Even that, she did in one elegant gesture with the tip of her middle finger.

"You're a good dancer!" I said to her. I had to shout a little bit.

"What?" she said. She leaned her ear towards me. She put her hand on my shoulder and pulled me closer.

"You're a good dancer!" I said again. This time my lips were centimeters away from her ear — and her neck.

She laughed. Then she took a step away from me and shimmied her shoulders.

"Thanks!" she said. "You too!"

"I'm serious," I said. "Did you study dance?"

She winked at me. "That's a secret," she said.

"Oh, come on!" I said.

Then the song changed into something kind of Latin-sounding. She smiled and took my hands into hers. She interlocked our fingers, so that our palms were pressed together. Then she did something with her hips that I don't even have the vocabulary to describe. She moved toward me and then away again.

I had to laugh at my own awkwardness. She twirled me around like a doll. Then she came right into my arms. We were like a pair of ballroom dancers. With her arm around my back, she held my hand firmly.

She tried to show me how to move my hips like hers.

"I can't do that," I said.

"Just try it," she said.

I tried for half a second, but then, she laughed at me.

"No way," I said. "I can't. I can't."

We laughed together and then she pulled me close again.

"Alright," she said. "Yeah, don't do that."

"Thanks a lot!" I said.

"It's okay," she said. "You don't have to be a good dancer."

"Why's that?" I said.

She leaned up onto her toes.

"Because you're beautiful," she said into my ear. Her voice was painfully loud, but I pretended like I couldn't hear her.

"What?" I shouted back at her.

She came even closer. She put her hand on the back of my neck, and made me lean toward her. I think I felt her cheek on my cheek.

"You're beautiful!" she shouted again.

I laughed because I was sure she was going to blow out my eardrum.

Nevertheless, she had fallen right into my trap. She had walked right into my arms. I had my hands on her hips, and I felt her stomach pressed against mine. She tried to pull away, but instead I held her where she was.

"You're beautiful!" I said into her ear. Then I added, "And you smell amazing!"

After I said it, I felt her hips push against me. She was leaning nearly all of her weight against me. And I think she moaned, or maybe I imagined that part. She had her arms around my neck. She looked up at me. I saw her features lit up by strobes and lasers.

"Thanks!" she said.

I noticed a tiny drop of sweat on her lip. If I had seen something like that on Josh or anyone else, I wouldn't have liked it. But on Cosima, I found myself licking my own lips. I found myself wanting to wipe it away, or even more, to kiss it.

Just then, the music changed from Latin-inspired to hip-hop.

Suddenly, she took a step away. She wanted to show me her best moves. I took a step back and watched her and she liked it. Other people were watching her, too. A man in a white tank top and leather jacket was dancing behind her. I saw him think about making a move. I felt a small rage swell up in me.

 _Don't even think about it._ I thought. _This one is mine._

I took Cosima's hand and pulled her close to me. She didn't know why I had grabbed her, but I don't think she cared. I guess she liked my sudden burst of aggression. She was sinking her hips down low and swaying back and forth. Then she turned around, so her back was facing me. She put my hands on her hips. I couldn't stop myself from moving right up behind her and matching her hips, sway for sway.

 _Oh my god!_ I thought. _This is why guys are always trying to grind up on us._

_Because it's awesome!_

When we were dancing like that, I felt something that I can honestly say I had never felt before. I felt, for lack of a better word, macho. It was kind of uncomfortable and kind of amazing. It was like discovering a new item on the menu at my favorite restaurant. It was something I had never considered before, but once I tried it... it was all I wanted to order.

I moved my hands around to her stomach. She didn't stop me. She put her hands over mine and held them there. I looked over her shoulder at leather jacket guy. He had backed off, but sometimes he would look up at us, still interested.

I turned Cosima around, so she was facing me again. Now that she was so close to me, all I wanted to do was touch her. I wanted to touch her everywhere. My skin was crawling with the amount of wanting to touch her. I could hardly stand it. But, I also couldn't stand all the other people around us, especially leather jacket guy.

"Do you want to go somewhere?" I said.

She smiled. "Like where?" she said. "Aren't we having fun here? Show me some more of your moves."

"I need a cigarette," I said. It wasn't true, but it seemed like a good excuse to get her off the dance floor.

"What?" she said.

I leaned over to repeat it, and then I realized she had just trapped me the same way I had trapped her. Her arms were around my neck and holding me close. I could have melted into her then. It was embarrassing how aroused I was.

"I need a cigarette," I said again. "Come on, Dancing Queen."

She was only reluctant to leave the dance floor for a moment. As soon as I grabbed her hand, she followed me eagerly. Once we got back to the bar, I realized I didn't know where I was going.

"Where can we smoke?" I asked.

"Follow me," she said.

She led to me a side door. There was a sign that said "Employees Only."

"Cosima, I don't think that's an exit," I said.

"I'm an employee, remember?" she said. She pulled a key card out of her bra. She swiped it and the door clicked open. "After you."

The door led to a cement stairwell. As far as I could tell, there was no one else there. When the door closed, the everything was quiet except for the low rumbling bass coming from the dance floor.

"Ah!" I sighed. "That's much better."

I took out a cigarette from my clutch. "Would you like one?" I said.

"No, thanks," she said. "Just pot for me."

"Oh, really?" I said.

"Yeah," she said. "I wouldn't dare light up here. Although, I'd really love to smoke right now."

I took a puff of my cigarette and looked at her. Her skin was glistening. She leaned against the wall, and crossed her arms in front of her chest. I thought about how it felt to dance with her, how it felt to have her hips pressed against mine. I thought about the pressure and I liked it. It was different than dancing with a man. It was less aggressive, more comfortable.

"Do you smoke?" she asked me.

"Well, no," I said. "I haven't before."

"Really?" she said. "I'm gonna get you so baked one day."

"One day?" I said. "I only have three days left. Actually, two and a half days now."

"Oh, shit!" she said. "That's right. So it has to be soon. Like, immediately."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Okay," I said.

"Really?" she said.

"Yeah, sure, why not?" I said.

"Well, we can't do it here," she said.

"That's okay," I said. "I'm ready to go anyway."

 _Before leather jacket guy makes his move,_ I thought. _Or worse, that blazer woman._

"Well, we could go back to my place, but it's kinda far," she said. She was standing with one hand on her hip and one hand on her forehead. The stairwell had started to smell like smoke. I exhaled again.

"Or," I said. "I have a hotel room, not far from here."

Her eyes lit up.

"Smoking in a hotel room," she said. "That would be very rock star of us!"

"Oh, yes," I said. "That's me, a complete rock star."

"I could tell," she said. She reached for my hips. Then she said, "From your dance moves."

I smacked her arm away. "Shut up!" I said.

"No, but seriously," she said. "You're adorable."

She slowly pushed me up against the railing. She touched my face.

"Like, crazy adorable," she said.

Then she kissed me. It was soft at first. Her lips were soft and her body was leaning softly against mine. To be honest, I was worried about the cigarette in my hand. But when I felt her tongue push against my lips, I grabbed her with my free hand. Our kisses grew harder, more rushed. My back was digging into the railing. I opened my mouth. I wanted her tongue, but she was holding back. She was teasing me.

I don't remember doing it, but I must have dropped the cigarette, because soon my arms were wrapped around her and I was squeezing at her shoulder blades and neck and arms. I was trying to pull her into me. Sometimes she would come close and sometimes she would pull away, and I would follow her body.

Then, and I honestly didn't expect it, I felt her knee slip between my legs, until her thigh was pressing against me. It was shocking in the best way possible. I jumped and then I moaned. I moaned so loudly, I heard myself echo up and down the stairs.

At that, she pulled away, and we both laughed.

"Let's get out of here," she said.

I don't think I was able to speak at that moment. I just nodded like a fool and followed her out of the stairwell.


	7. Chapter 7

I followed Cosima down the stairs to a small, messy office.

She opened a locker and took out her bag. I watched her pull a key card out of her bra. Then, much to my surprise, she pulled her cellphone out next. She slipped them both into the bag.

 _How had I not noticed that was there the whole night?_ I thought.

Then she took out a jean jacket and put it on.

"Are you sure I'm supposed to be here?" I said.

"Yeah, it's totally fine," she said. Then she was shuffling me out the door. "But, maybe, let's hurry."

"Wait a minute," I said. I was looking over her shoulder. "Is that your uniform?"

"Yep," she said, smiling. "I can bring it along if you want."

"Hmm," I said. "No, that's fine. I was just curious."

"Are you sure? This is your last chance," she said.

"I'm sure," I said with a blush. She still thought I had a khaki-fetish. And, to be fair, maybe I did.

When we got out to the street, there was a large crowd of people hanging around. Cosima grabbed my hand and led me to find a taxi. The night air was cooler than I expected. No, that was an understatement. It was really, really cold. Within minutes I was shivering.

Unfortunately, we weren't having luck finding a taxi.

"Oh my god!" Cosima said. "You're shivering!"

She came close to me and rubbed my arms with her hands. She looked up at me, and the streetlight lit up her brown eyes. I saw colors reflected in her irises that I hadn't noticed before, little shades of yellow and gold. Her eyes were warm and so were her hands on my arms.

"I'm fine," I said.

"Bullshit," she said. "Here, take my jacket."

"No," I said. "No, really. I'm fine."

But she was already taking it off. I felt such strange feelings. I was grateful, because I was really cold. I felt turned on, because she was being so chivalrous. And I also felt silly. I generally didn't like it when guys tried to do that kind of thing for me.

"Here, turn around," she said. I didn't protest. I did what she told me to do. She held the coat out for me, and then she slipped it up onto my shoulders.

"There," she said. "Better?"

"Très bien," I said. "Merci. But now you will be cold."

"It's fine," she said. "I'm used to it."

"Really?" I said. "Is it like this often?"

"Well," she said, "Mark Twain said that the coldest winter he ever spent was a summer in San Francisco."

I laughed. "Did he really say that?"

"Yep," she said.

She rubbed my arms again under her hands. She was looking up at me with her warm brown eyes, and I was feeling butterflies again, and I was ready to kiss her again, but then I heard my name. My stomach turned. I knew right away who it was — Josh.

"Delphine! Hey, Delphine!" he shouted.

I turned to see him waving at me. He was standing with two of his friends. They were a couple and they had been extra nice to me. And by nice, I mean, the man had leered at me for ten days straight, and his girlfriend had looked at me sideways, trying to catch her boyfriend leering at me.

"Josh," I said. "What are you doing here?"

He made a gesture to his friends, to say that he needed a moment. Then he approached me and lowered his voice.

"I came to see you," he said. "I wanted to apologize."

"I see," I said.

It was the only thing I could think to say.

At first, I was in shock, and then I felt the anger.

"I'm confused," Cosima said.

I heard the frustration in her voice, but I couldn't look at her, because I couldn't stand to see her upset face again.

"Me, too," I said.

I ran my hand through my hair. My mouth was open, but no other words came out.

"Hey, Delphine," he said.

He put his hand on my arm, in the exact spot where Cosima's hand had just been. I shivered.

"I'm sorry about this afternoon," he said. "Didn't you get my text?"

I stepped away from his touch.

"No," I said. "I wasn't expecting any texts. And I certainly didn't expect you to show up here."

 _I was too busy to check my phone!_ I thought. _Too busy kissing_ _a good kisser!_

"Look," Cosima said. "I'm gonna go find a cab."

"Wait, Cosima," I said. "Just wait a minute."

Josh looked back and forth between us. I saw a spark of recognition in his eyes.

"Delphine," Josh said. "What's going on here?"

"Nothing's going on," I said. "I mean, I'm leaving now. We're leaving now."

"With her?" he said. He pointed at her in the rudest way possible, talking about her as if she wasn't there.

"Oui," I said. "You remember Cosima?"

"Yeah, the alligator girl," he said, his finger still raised rudely. Then he wiggled the tip back and forth between us. "You guys are leaving together?"

"Yeah, we are," Cosima said. "Right now. Come on, Delphine."

She grabbed my hand.

"Excuse me?" Josh said.

"You shouldn't have come, Josh," I said. "Just go. Have fun with your friends. The museum is really nice right now."

"I can't believe this," he said. He raised his hand to his forehead. "I came all the way here to see you... to apologize. I made my friends come, too. And now you're leaving."

"Well, I'm sure you'll have a great time with your friends," I said. "But I didn't ask you to come."

"And we're leaving now," Cosima said.

"Oh yeah? And where are you going?" he said.

"Don't worry about it," Cosima said.

"Excuse me, but I wasn't talking to you," he said.

At that, Cosima took a step forward. She was a petite woman, but I had no doubt she could stand her ground against him.

"Stop it, both of you!" I said. "Josh, I'm leaving. That's it. It's over."

"That's it, huh?" Josh said, his voice raised. "I can't believe it! I can't fucking believe this!"

"Come on," Cosima said. She pulled on my hand. I turned to walk away.

"You're going to leave me for a stranger?! After everything I did for you?!" he shouted after me.

"I guess so," I said as I was walking away.

"What the fuck?!" he said. "I don't get it. Why?!"

Then I turned to face him. His face was red. His friends were staring. In fact, everyone was staring.

"Because she's a better kisser than you are!" I shouted.

The crowd gasped. As soon as I said it, I felt horrible — and also, wonderful.

He looked like a kicked puppy. He looked like a wounded animal. I didn't stick around to see the anger and embarrassment that would surely follow.

I grabbed Cosima's hand and we ran out into the park, laughing all the way.

When we got onto a main road, we found a taxi right away. I sat in the backseat of that taxi and I should have been excited, because I was in a taxi with Cosima! And we were going to a hotel together!

But, instead, my laughter gave way to brooding. I was in a terrible mood. I was staring out the window and wondering about how I had gotten into a relationship with such an asshole.

"Don't think about it too much," Cosima said.

"I'm such an idiot!" I said.

"No way," she said. "We are all idiots when it comes to love. Everyone has a horrible ex story. I have, like, three."

"I didn't love him," I said.

"Oh... well..." she said. "In that case, you're an idiot."

She was being ironic. She was trying to make me laugh. I felt her slip her hand over the top of mine. I squeezed it, but I couldn't look at her.

"Am I really a better kisser?" she said.

"Oui," I said. "By lightyears."

"Well, that's good to know."

Then I looked at her.

"No offense, but, a german shepherd is a better kisser than Josh," I said.

"Ouch!" she said. "So it wasn't a compliment after all. Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

"Non," I said. I touched her face. She had such a sweet face.

 _How could a stranger's face become so dear to me in only a few hours?_ I wondered.

She was looking at me with eagerness and vulnerability. I touched her lips. They weren't so pale now. They were stained red by the wine. She was waiting for my answer.

"J'aime t'embrasser," I said.

_I love kissing you._

She smiled her big smile, but then she nudged me with her elbow.

"That's not fair," she said. "What does that mean?"

"I'll tell you later," I said.

"Oh, come on!" she said. "You can't just say something romantic in French and then leave a girl hanging."

"I can't say it," I said. "Not in front of the taxi driver."

Cosima glanced at the driver in the rear view mirror. He glanced back, confirming my suspicion that he was listening to every word we were saying.

"Alright," she said. "But it was romantic, wasn't it?"

"Très romantique," I said.

"Well," she said. "At least, tell me one more time."

I leaned very close to her, and whispered into her ear, "J'aime t'embrasser."

Then I kissed her cheek, just under the rim of her glasses. Her face turned bright red. Then she sighed and turned away from me. She gazed out the window and smiled. She held my hand the rest of the way to the hotel.

Needless to say, by the time we arrived, I had already stopped thinking about Josh.


	8. Chapter 8

We walked through the hotel lobby to the elevator. We stood separately, not touching, while we waited for the elevator to arrive. There was an old businessman waiting, too. He was picking at his teeth with a toothpick. When the elevator arrived we all stepped on together.

Cosima and I leaned against the back of the elevator, and the businessman stood at the front. We stared at his back as he adjusted the waistband of his pants. Every now and then he would glance at us in the reflective metal doors.

Cosima brushed her pinky against mine. That, the tiniest of touches, gave me goosebumps. I know she did it on purpose. I know she saw me shiver, because I saw her smile out of the corner of my eye. Then she hid her face. She was laughing at me.

The man got off at the fifth floor, and I took that chance to hit Cosima's arm.

"You're such a tease!" I said to her.

We got off on the next floor. Cosima followed me to my room, and I felt her eyes on my back all the way down the hall. I was so nervous, I was sure that my entire body was red, especially, the back of my neck and the backs of my ears, because those two places were on fire.

I stood at the door with the card key in my hand. She was standing right behind me. I could hear her breathing.

 _Calm down_ , I thought. _We are just having a smoke. Nothing else._

We entered the room. It smelled like a hotel room, equal parts stale air and sterilized sheets.

There was my bed. There was my shopping bag. There were my clothes from the afternoon. It was all that I had at the moment.

I gathered up the clothes and tossed them in the shopping bag. Then I set my bag down on the dresser.

"Nice place," Cosima said.

"Yeah," I said. "It was a last minute decision."

Cosima didn't really respond, she just kind of grunted a half-interested grunt, like, _hmph_.

"So," I said. "Are you thirsty? Or hungry? Or shall we have more drinks? Maybe tea?"

"I'm fine," Cosima said.

She walked over to the balcony.

"Wow!" she said. "You have a killer view!"

She pulled back the curtains and opened the door. She was right. We could see the Golden Gate Bridge from where we stood. We stepped out onto the balcony.

"This place must be wicked expensive!" she said.

"Oh, God, I don't want to think about it," I said. "If I do, I might have a heart attack."

"Fair enough," she said.

"Are you sure you don't want something to drink?"

"Maybe, water," she said. "But mostly, I want this."

She reached into her bra and pulled out a joint. She rolled it between her fingers and smiled at me. Then she turned her head sideways, as if asking me a question. But I was still trying to work out the mysterious physics of her bra capacity.

 _What else could she possibly have in there?_ I thought.

And then I thought, _That joint has been next to her body all night._

"Delphine?" she said.

"Oui?" I said.

"Do you want to smoke this or not?"

"Oh, yes, sure," I said. "But I'm warning you, I've never smoked before. This could end badly. I mean, I've read about the possible side-effects of cannabis. I know that it can have hallucinogenic or psychedelic effects in some people."

"Oh god," Cosima said. "You sound like an afterschool special."

"Don't laugh at me. I don't know," I said. "That's just what I heard. All of my friends have smoked pot before. I just never thought about it."

"So," Cosima said. "I guess that makes two new things for you to consider tonight."

"Yeah," I said. "I guess so."

"Do you trust me?" she said. She took a step closer to me.

"Oui," I said.

"I promise the worst that could happen is you get a little paranoid, we order room service, eat it off, and then pass out."

"Well," I said. "That doesn't sound so bad."

"And the best that can happen," she continued, "is that we have a great time."

"I see," I said.

She put the joint to her lips. "Do you have a lighter?" she asked.

She tried hard to convince me to smoke that joint, but she didn't really have to. Somehow, when I saw it in her mouth, and when I remembered that she had pulled it out of her bra only moments before, I already knew I would smoke it. I already knew that I wanted to.

She took the first hit. Then she passed it to me.

"Okay," I said. "But only a little bit."

The only thing I can remember is the smell and the taste, which were so different from cigarettes, but the rest of it was the same. No big deal. I passed it back to her.

She took a deep breath and then exhaled a cloud of smoke.

"It's such a beautiful night," she said.

"Yes," I said. "I can't even believe I'm here. In San Francisco! In America!"

"So it's your first time?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "But I've always dreamed of coming to the States."

"And you came here with Josh?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "I came home with him to visit his family. But I didn't know that that was all we were going to do."

"Well," she said as she took another hit, "he seemed like a real nice guy."

"No, no," I said. "He was fine, and his family was fine. I mean, he was just a little self-involved."

"You think?" Cosima said.

"Okay, okay," I said. "He was a jerk."

"Yeah," Cosima said. "Kind of a total jerk."

"He was a jerk!" I shouted. My voice echoed off the ground, and came back to me from many angles.

"Go ahead," she said. "Let it out."

"He was a fucking asshole!" I shouted out into the night. "Pretentious! Conceited! Asshole! And..."

I couldn't think of the word. I looked at Cosima. She was clearly enjoying my outburst.

"What do you call a man who has an unhealthy relationship with his mother?" I asked.

"A mama's boy?" she said.

"Oui! Oui!" I said. Then I turned back toward the open air. "Fuckin' mama's boy!"

She laughed at me, and then I laughed at myself.

"Feel better?" she asked.

"Yeah," I said. I took the joint from her and looked at it closely. The paper was burning brightly at the edge. "This stuff is pretty good," I said.

"You're telling me," she said. "You know a lot of swear words."

"Yes," I said. "I studied English in school, but I learned the most useful things from TV and movies."

"Ah-ha!" she said. "Okay, teach me some French swear words."

"I can't!" I said.

"Why not?" she said.

"Well, alright," I said. "But only two."

"Fine," she said. She was looking at me expectantly.

"Well, there is merde," I said.

"Merde!" she shouted. She turned her face out toward the night and shouted it again.

"Merde!"

I had to laugh at her.

"Okay," she said. "What does that mean?"

"That means 'shit'," I said.

"Merde!" she shouted again. "How's my pronunciation?"

"Very good!" I said. I couldn't stop laughing.

"And what's the other one?" she said.

"I will tell you," I said, "But it's very rude, so please don't ever say it in front of other French people."

"I don't know any other French people."

"Well, in case you go to France one day, you never know," I said.

"Alright, alright. I promise."

"Okay..."

I was about to say the word, but somehow, I couldn't. I felt giggles bubbling up inside me. Suddenly, that word was the funniest word I had ever tried to say.

"Pu..." I started, but then I would be interrupted by my own laughing. "Put..."

"Oh, come on!" she said. She hit my arm. "Spit it out!"

"Wait a minute!" I said. "Why is it so funny?"

"I don't know!"

I stood up straight. I tried to gather myself. I held a straight face for two seconds. I took a deep breath.

"Putain," I said seriously and softly. It was barely a whisper.

"Putain?" she mimicked back to me.

I burst into laughter and she started to giggle with me.

"Putain? Is that right?" she asked me.

"Oui, oui," I said between laughs. Tears were gathering at the corners of my eyes.

She turned herself toward the balcony railing. She raised her arms up and shouted with her whole body. She looked like a wild politician.

"Putain! Merde! Putain!"

We both doubled over in laughter. She put her hand on my shoulder and then she leaned toward me. I felt her body weight on me, and I felt her shoulders heaving with laughter. Then, somehow, we ended up face to face. She was in my arms and looking up at me. She looked so happy!

"How's my pronunciation?" she asked again.

"It's okay."

"Just okay?"

"You have an American accent, of course… but it's cute."

"That's just another way of saying bad."

"Non," I said. "It's cute."

Her hands were on my waist. She squeezed me then.

"What did you say to me in the taxi?"

I touched her face. I put both of my hands on her cheeks. I opened my mouth to speak. I thought I would confess, but somehow I couldn't bring myself to say the words in English.

"I'll tell you one day," I said.

"One day? But you're leaving so soon."

I touched her lip with my thumb. It was so soft. Her face was so soft. Everything about her was soft. I leaned over to kiss her.

My lips had just brushed hers when the telephone rang from inside the hotel room. We jumped. Then we looked at each other in disbelief.

"Who could that be?" she asked through new giggles.

"I don't know," I said. I felt my own laughter bubbling up again.

She snuck out from my arms and ran over to the telephone. She sat on the bed before she picked up the receiver.

"Hello?" she said, struggling to keep her serious tone.

"Yes, yes this is she...Oh, yes, I understand...I apologize...Yes, I understand. Thanks for calling."

Then she hung up the phone. She looked at me with huge eyes. Her face exploded into a smile. She couldn't stop laughing. She curled up on the bed, laughing.

"What? Who was it?" I said. I couldn't stop my own giggles. They were completely out of control.

"It was the front desk," she said. She wiped her eyes. "There have been noise complaints."

"Oh god!" I said. I closed the balcony doors then. I ran over to the bed and laid down on my stomach.

She was still laughing.

I was still laughing.

"They think I'm a crazy tourist or something," I said.

"Who cares?" Cosima said. "It's no big deal."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, definitely," she said. "No big deal."

We both laid on the bed. She was on her back, and I was on my stomach.

But it was only when our giggles died down that I realized it.

 _We are both on the bed!_ I thought. _Her socks aren't off, thank goodness. But her shoes are! How did that happen?_

And after realizing it, I found it hard to breathe. I found it hard to think about anything except the fact that she was only a few centimeters away from me. I couldn't even remember what had been so funny a few minutes before, because now everything felt very serious.

Everything was life-or-death serious. At least, I think that is what my pounding heart was trying to tell me.


	9. Chapter 9

What I have learned, and what I was finding out, laying on that bed, is that there are categorical differences between shivers. There are shivers of cold, shivers of fear, shivers of pain, and shivers of excitement. There are those shivers of repulsion, and that very special shiver when you finally pee after holding it for a really long time.

Then there are the shivers that come from laying on a bed next to someone that you have just met. Those are the shivers of anticipation.

Those are the Cosima shivers.

I was shaking so hard, I was sure the entire bed was vibrating and that she could feel it. I could hardly stand being there, but I couldn't move. I could barely breathe. I felt like a teenager again... although, I'm not sure I'd ever felt those kind of shivers, even as a teenager.

She reached her hand out to touch my arm. I swear I jumped. But also, I froze. I froze and I didn't, because every muscle in my body was shivering, involuntarily. It would come over me like a wave, and then it would settle down again.

Then she started moving her fingertip along my arm, and another wave would come over me.

 _Oh, god!_ I thought. _I don't know what to do. I wouldn't know what to do!_

I sat up.

"Are you sure you don't want something else to drink?" I asked.

I heard her sigh.

"No," she said. "I'm fine."

"Oh, really?" I said. "Maybe I want another drink. Maybe I can order some wine?"

I stood up and started looking around for the room service menu.

"Delphine," she said. When I turned to look at her, she was holding the menu in her hands.

"Oh, merci," I said.

I walked toward her.

"Are you okay?" she said as she handed it to me.

"Yeah, yeah," I said.

I gestured with my hand that it was no big deal, but neither of us believed me.

"Are you sure?" she said.

She reached out for my arm. I was hit with another wave of the Cosima shivers.

"Oh my god!" she said for the second time that night. "You're shaking!"

"Yeah, no," I said. "I'm fine. I'm fine. It's nothing."

"Okay," she said.

She sat on the edge of the bed, looking away. She held her own arm. She looked uncomfortable.

And it was my fault.

"Alright," I said. "It's not nothing. Actually, I don't know what it is. I've never really felt like this, and here you are a stranger, a beautiful stranger, and not a stranger, too. It's all very confusing. I mean, twelve hours ago I didn't know you existed. Twelve hours ago I didn't know I could feel this way."

"And how do you feel?" she said. She stood up.

"I feel like a fish out of water. I have no idea what I'm doing. I mean, I have no idea what to do — with you. I mean, it takes ten thousand hours of experience to become good at something, right, because the myelin has to wrap itself around the axons of our neurons, and as of right now, I'm at hour six, and I don't know how many hours you have, but I'm sure you're much more of an expert than me."

"An expert at what?" she said. She was about to laugh, but then thought better of it.

"At this," I said. "At whatever it is that you're doing. At being with women. I don't want to disappoint you."

"Well," she said. "Obviously, I have more than six hours of experience with women, but I wouldn't say I have ten thousand, either. I'm not an expert at any of this."

She smiled at me and added, "Maybe just slightly above average."

She touched my face. I was still shaking.

"Look," she said. "I thought we were having a good time, weren't we?"

"Yes," I said.

"So, let's just relax," she said. She let her hand fall from my face. "Nothing has to happen."

I felt a pang of disappointment in my gut.

 _But I do want something to happen!_ I thought. _I want it so much! I just need a drink!_

"I don't expect you to pull out any crazy moves," she continued. "Let's just order some more wine and enjoy each other's company."

"Okay," I said.

She picked up the menu and then picked up the phone.

"Besides," she said with the receiver to her ear, "I've never been hit on by a beautiful French woman in the afternoon and then been taken back to her hotel room by evening. This is a first for both of us."

"Hello?" she said to the operator. "Please bring us a bottle of the Alpha Omega Cabernet Sauvignon and two glasses. Yes, that's all. Thank you."

When I saw her standing like that, with the phone to her ear, and I heard her say _cabernet sauvignon_ with her American accent, I realized that all my shakes were pointless. She was so utterly charming that I couldn't stay away from her for very long, despite my own mental freak outs.

 _She thinks I'm beautiful_ , I thought. _She said I was beautiful._

She hung up the phone, and when she looked up I was standing very close to her.

"Say it again," I said.

"Say what again?"

"Cabernet sauvignon."

She blushed and then playfully hit me.

"Don't make fun of me," she said. "You probably have ten thousand hours of speaking English. I have, like, ten thousand seconds of speaking French."

"Oui," I said. "So we are even."

"How are we even?" she said. She acted shocked. I felt suddenly brave.

"Well, if you say cabernet sauvignon for me one more time, I will try my best to seduce you."

"Oh, yeah? I thought you didn't know how to seduce a woman."

"Well, I did get you to my hotel room didn't I?"

"True. You even had me on your bed... until you blew it."

"Did I really blow it?"

She looked down and grabbed my hands.

"No," she said, entwining her fingers with mine. "And you don't have to seduce me."

She looked up at me. She looked me in the eyes, blushing, and the next words that she said were caught in her throat.

"I guess I'm kinda easy." She pushed her glasses up her nose. "For you, I mean."

I grabbed her then. I kissed her so hard. I didn't care about shivers or anxieties. I didn't care about hours of experience. I didn't care that she was a woman, or that I was a woman. Actually, I didn't feel like a woman at all. I felt strong and brave. I felt active. I pushed her onto the bed.

She looked up at me and I could see her arousal. I'd never seen something like that before. I'd never seen a woman's arousal directed at me. It was like a punch in the stomach — in a good way. I laid down on top of her, and then everything was a rough motion. My kisses were rough. My hands were rough. My hips were rough, too, as I pushed against her.

"Wait a sec, wait a sec," she said. "My glasses."

I took them from her and set them on the night stand. I was straddling her then, and kissing her neck and shoulders. Then, there was a knock at the door.

We both froze.

"The wine," Cosima said.

"Merde!" I said. "I'll be right back."

"Okay," she said.

I jumped off the bed and hurried to the door. For one second, I tried to gain my composure. I had planned to simply grab the bottle and get back to the bed as fast as I could. But when I opened the door, a young man rolled a cart into the room. He said hello to Cosima, who was now lounging on the bed, glasses-free. She said hello, but I'm sure she couldn't see him. He took his sweet time setting the wine on the table, and the wine glasses, and a plate of cheese and crackers.

"These are compliments of the hotel," he said.

"Merci," I said.

_Now, please, get out!_

"If you ladies need anything else, let me know. My name is Dan."

"Yes, okay, Dan. Thank you," I said.

I shooed him out of the room. "Merci, merci."

I said it at least twenty times.

Finally, when I closed the door and hurried back to the bed, Cosima was waiting for me with a big smile. She sat up on her knees, on the edge of the bed. She reached for me and we laughed.

"Where were we?" I said.

With her on her knees like that, we were nearly eye to eye.

"Well, I had just ordered the _cabernet sauvignon_ ," she said. She said it extra slow and with a twinkle in her eye.

I'm a sucker, because that really turned me on. I kissed her again. I squeezed her tightly. How small she was! I felt her reach her hands around my back. I felt her fingers struggle with the zipper on my dress. I knew what she was after. I stood still for a moment. Then I felt the zipper come down. I felt her hands slip inside my dress and press against my back.

Anyone who has ever worn a black cocktail dress will know that, though they look really good when you wear them, they can sometimes be a pain in the ass to take off. I let her kiss me a few more minutes. I let her slip it off my shoulders. But there was no graceful way to get out of it.

"Wait," I said. I had to step back and take off the dress myself. I did a shimmy and it was not graceful, but necessary.

She took that opportunity to do her own shimmy, and a moment later she was out of those intricately woven stockings and she was pulling me down onto the bed.

She hummed and moaned into my mouth as she kissed me and I thought I was melting. She got me onto my back. She sat up with her knees straddling my thighs.

There it was again, that look of desire in her eyes. How totally different from a man's desire. A man's desire was easy to read, it was obvious. I always knew what a man wanted. But this was different. This was something hidden, something unrevealed, that was bubbling up to the surface. This was something inside of Cosima, a primal thing, that was rising up and was focused on me. This was something unnameable.

I squeezed my own thighs together. I was shaking again.

She pulled her own dress off over her head. And then, quickly, she took her bra off, too. She leaned over me until her breasts were resting on my chest. I felt my own arousal, and I wondered if my face looked the same as hers. A strand of her hair fell onto my face, and all I could smell was Cosima. I wrapped my arms around her.

She kissed me very gently then, once or twice. Then she looked at me with a curious expression. I'm not sure what she was asking, but I knew my answer was yes. Whatever she wanted my answer was yes.

"I want to touch you," she said.

"Yes!" I said. "Yes-s-s!"

The english 'yes' slipped out of my mouth in one long "s" which quickly turned into a low moan.

"Wait a minute," she said. Then she leaned up on her elbow, and began plucking the rings off of her fingers.

 _Oh god!_ I thought. _She's going to use her fingers!_

Somehow, I hadn't even thought about it, hadn't considered it a possibility before that moment. This whole time, those hands had been sexual organs. I was on fire from my toes to my belly.

She laid the rings on the nightstand, and each one made a distinct _clunk-clunk_ on the wood.

When she came back to me, she wasted no time in slipping her hand down my belly, and then between my legs. She slipped her hand beneath the fabric of my underwear, and her hand was so cool.

The Cosima shivers.

When she touched me, I may have shouted, or maybe she shouted, I'm not sure. Her eyes were so dark now, nearly black with desire and that unnameable thing.

She looked at me and said, "You're so wet."

I couldn't respond to her in words. I kissed her. I grabbed her hand. I moved my hips against her.

All I remember is the wanting. I didn't know what I was wanting. It was the wanting itself, and I had no idea how to satiate it. Luckily, she had a better idea of what was going on than I did.

She took off my underwear. She took off my bra. She laid herself half over me, with her thigh pressing against the back of her hand.

For a few moments, she was tentative. She was touching me slowly. Her eyes were closed. She was moaning to herself. She pushed inside me a little. I shifted my hips for her. She pushed deeper and then stroked me. It felt really good, honestly, it did. But it wasn't the thing that I was wanting. Somehow, she knew it. When she pulled out and touched my clit, my whole body jumped. She smiled.

"Here?" she asked.

"Oui!" I said.

Then, without hesitation, she started rocking against me. I was pushing back against her with all of my strength. All I can remember is that the bottoms of my feet were on fire. I thought she would keep going like that until she destroyed me, but then she kissed my breast. I watched her do it. She looked up at me with her dark eyes. And then she took my nipple into her mouth and bit just the smallest bite. It was enough.

I came.

I shivered and I came and little fireflies leapt out from my toes.

The Cosima shivers. The best of the shivers.


	10. Chapter 10

When I opened my eyes, she had already rolled onto her side. She had propped herself up on her elbow and she was staring at me. The light was still on. She was backlit, and I couldn't tell for sure, but I think she was smiling.

"That was easy," she said as she shrugged her shoulders.

I blushed and hid my face in my elbow.

"Don't laugh at me!" I said.

She grabbed my arm. I caught a hint of myself in the air — proof that what had just happened had really just happened.

"I'm not laughing at you," she said. She poked me in the ribs. "I'm laughing with you."

It was true, I realized. I was laughing. My laughter grew louder and I rolled into her arms. But I was still hiding my face. Only this time, I was hiding it against her chest. She hugged me.

When I found myself there, with my face pressed against her skin, I marveled at myself. It felt like I had been doing this for years.

"It usually doesn't happen that fast," I said. And that was true.

"Well," she said. "I'll take that as a compliment."

She ran her fingers along my spine and I felt the goosebumps rising up — promises of more shivers. With my head where it was, I looked down. I saw the curve of her breast and the curve of her stomach, and the tops of her thighs pulled up, so that our knees were touching. This was a new landscape, a new perspective, a new territory that I had never considered.

I touched her stomach with my finger. I saw the muscles tighten there. I heard a giggle escape from her lips. Then she got quiet.

I ran my finger in circles around her bellybutton. I did it a few times. She stayed still. Then I saw her hips move. It was a slight movement, but I saw it. I ran my hand along her side to the top of her hip, and then, too scared to go anywhere else, I returned to her stomach. I saw her hips move again. She sighed.

I thought they would come again, but my shivers were gone. They were replaced with an aching — a confident aching between my legs. That aching drove my fingertip up. I traced the line of her breast bone. She leaned her shoulder back and watched me. Her hips were moving more now. I traced the curve under her breast.

She sighed again. Then she grabbed my hand. She moved it to her breast. She held her hand over mine and we both squeezed her breast. The aching spread from my legs like a firecracker. It reached up to my bellybutton and down through my hamstrings.

She moaned and then rolled onto her back. I followed until I was leaning over her. She moved her hand away. She stretched herself out languidly. I grabbed her breast again, and watched her body move. I watched her back arch, and her stomach flex.

 _This is fun!_ I thought.

I looked up at her face, and saw her smiling. She looked at me expectantly. I blushed again.

"Are you still laughing at me?" I said.

"Laughing with you," she said. "Aren't you having fun?"

 _How did she know?_ I thought.

"Oui," I said and then I moved up to kiss her.

It was a great kiss. Her mouth was open. She was waiting for me. She was waiting for me and it turned me on. My body started doing things while I was kissing her. Things were stirring around inside me. My hips were moving on their own, driving against her. And she was waiting for me. Soon I was on top of her. Soon she had her legs wrapped around my waist, and her arms around my shoulders.

I was pushing my tongue into her mouth, the way guys would sometimes do to me, the way that I had always hated. But I was doing it to her, and I couldn't stop myself. She didn't seem to mind. She pushed back. She moaned into my mouth again. She was egging me on. She was waiting for me.

_To do what?_

I pulled away so that I could look at her face. I saw her arousal again, but it was softer this time, warmer. More than that, I saw the effects of my own arousal, in the pink color of her lips where I had kissed them so hard. They had been pale, at the museum, and I had kissed them pink.

Suddenly, she looked concerned.

"What?" she said. "Do you want to stop?"

"Non," I said. "I just..."

I didn't know how to express it. It was a desire I had never tried to express before.

"What?" she said.

"I want to do to you..." I said. "...what you did to me... before."

 _Oh, god,_ I thought. _That sounded really lame._

But she understood. "Okay," she said.

She grabbed my hand. I watched her lift my fingers to her mouth. She kissed them first, and then she put the tips into her mouth. I felt a shock right through my chest to my clit. I ground my hips down against her. Then she pulled my fingers into her mouth further, and I felt her tongue moving around them in slow, velvet strokes.

The aching was bursting inside me. Bursting and bursting.

Then she pulled my fingers out of her mouth, kissed them again, and pushed my hand down. I understood. I tried to reach her, but the physics were a challenge, to say the least.

"Here," she said. "Lay next to me."

I did as she said. Then, just as she had done with her breast, she guided my hand between her legs.

When I felt her, I became absolutely still. My whole body, my whole mind was surprised, in a state of shock.

Of course, I had felt myself before, but it was nothing like this. I had not been prepared for the softness of her. I had not been prepared for my own arousal at her arousal — at how wet she was. That whole thing with licking my fingers was just a show. She was wet and she was waiting for me.

She touched my face then. She gently pulled my chin toward her. I looked into her eyes, and I saw that she was waiting for me, begging for me, yearning for me. I am entirely certain that no one had ever looked at me like that before, and no one else has looked at me like that since.

I pushed inside her and she moaned. Then she pulled my head down to her shoulder and held me there. I let her, because all of my focus was wrapped up in those two fingers. I moved in and out of her, slowly at first. And then, the aching got the better of me. I was going deeper. She spread her legs wide, and she was pulling at my shoulders and back. I was pushing harder.

Deeper and harder.

"Are you okay?" I said.

"Yes, yes!" she said. "Don't stop."

The shock started to pass, and my hips were finding a rhythm. It was a frustrated rhythm that pushed against Cosima's hip and thigh. It was frustrating because my hips knew what they wanted. They knew the place they were meant to touch — the place our bodies were supposed to connect. They knew it from the first time Cosima had kissed me in that stairwell and slipped her leg between mine.

Physics be damned, my only desire at that moment was to be on top of her. I found a way to make it work. She helped me out. She was ready for me. I unleashed all of my aching frustration on her like some sort of animal. I pushed into her again and again. She pushed back against me. Sometimes she hit my arms or back, sometimes she cried out. But she never told me to stop, and if I asked her she would hit me again.

"Don't stop!" she would say.

Then I stopped asking. I just kept pushing against her until I was exhausted. Over and over and over. My muscles ached in exhaustion, but that other ache drove me on. Maybe she sensed that I was running out of steam, because suddenly she pushed me away.

"Wait," she said. "Get up."

I sat up on my knees. I was out of breath and kind of embarrassed.

"Oh sorry," I said. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, yes," she said. "Just wait a minute."

She rolled over onto her stomach, and then, to my amazement, she was on all fours in front of me.

"This way is easier," she said.

"Okay," I said. I had to take her word for it.

"Come here, come here," she said. I heard desperation in her voice. She was as desperate for me as I was for her.

I moved up behind her, and just like I had been doing this all my life, I was inside her again.

She was right. That way was easier. I felt a new surge of energy.

My hips were free to move around. I slammed into her. I thought I might be hurting her, but she was pushing back against me just as hard. I had never felt this kind of arousal. It was like all my sexual energy was drawn together. What was usually nebulous was drawing together into a point — into a directed action — and it was directed at Cosima. It was pushing towards her and wanted release.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" she kept saying.

She didn't have to say it. There was no way I could stop myself. And the sound of her voice kept driving me forward. Our movements became desperate. She started moving her hips so fast. I had to match her, even though it was killing me, I had to match her. Then I saw her reach down to touch herself. I couldn't take it. My hips couldn't take it. I pulled out of her so that I could grab her hips with two hands. I grabbed her hips with two hands and began slamming into the back of her. I hardly knew what I was doing, or how it could feel so good, but with every connect, explosions spread from my crotch to the tips of my toes. Over and over. Harder and harder.

Finally, she leaned forward, so her face was in the pillow. She moaned deep and low, and she pushed back into me for one last, long moment. When I saw her back arch, I felt my own orgasm, pointed and sharp.

I pulled away from her, and we both collapsed into the bed. I could hardly breathe. I could hardly move my hand.

 _That's going to hurt tomorrow,_ I thought.

We laid there, quietly. My hand was on her back. I felt the sweat there. I felt the up and down of her breath. I smelled both of us, in the air and on the sheets.

I was exhausted. Sweetly exhausted.

Finally, she lifted her head and turned to face me. She smiled a relaxed smile. We laid on our stomachs, with our faces close together.

"Are you sure you've never done that before?" she asked.

"Definitely not."

"Never even thought about it?"

"Non," I said. "Why? Did you like it?"

"Didn't you?"

"Yes," I said. "It was... different."

"Different good or different bad?"

She smiled like she already knew the answer.

"Different good, I think. I mean, I felt so..."

"What? You felt so what?"

"Manly," I said, and then I couldn't help but laugh.

"Is that a good thing?" she asked, and she was laughing with me.

"Yeah," I said. "Unexpected, but good."

"Good," she said. "Very good."

She closed her eyes for a moment and was quiet.

Then she said, "I'm glad I met you, Delphine."

"I'm glad I met you, too, Cosima."

I touched her face.

Her voice was sleepy, so I pulled the sheet up over her. I laid next to her, pretending to sleep, too. But every few minutes I would open my eyes and stare at her, without blinking. I think I was trying to burn my retinas with her image. I think I was grasping at those moments, taking mental souvenirs. I was greedily cataloging her silhouette, her scent, the sound of her breath. Yes, even the taste of her on my fingers. I was trying to hold on to it all, because in two days, I would have to walk away. In two days, I would never see her again.

I turned the light off and laid down next to her. I tried my hardest to fight off sleep, but she looked so peaceful, that after a few minutes of watching her, my eyes grew heavy, and before I knew it, I was out.


	11. Chapter 11

The sunshine woke me up. It filtered in through the half-closed curtains, but it felt like it filtered out from my heart. I woke up with a smile, and in my half-dreaming state, I was sure that I was the one that was shining.

 _No, that can't be_ , said my waking self.

I reached my hand across the bed, only to find the sheets there were cold. My heart skipped a beat. I sat up.

"Cosima?" I said.

 _She can't be gone already!_ I thought. _Without saying goodbye?_

"Yeah?" she said from the bathroom.

She stepped out, with a toothbrush in her mouth. She was wearing a white, fluffy bathrobe.

I was relieved. I was relieved, and then, even though she stood there with toothpaste at the corners of her mouth, I wanted to rip that robe from her shoulders.

 _What is this?_ I thought. _Is this lust?_

It was a strange, new compulsion for me. Looking at her made my brain tingle. The only other thing that tickled me on the inside in the same way was...well, science. Yes, that was exactly right. She was like a problem that needed to be solved. Then again, no, because, I knew whatever I was feeling wasn't really a problem at all. Then, she was like a theory that needed to be tested, or a solution that needed to be discovered. She was that flash of intuition, right before all the equations fall into place, that proves all of your theories were right to begin with.

A eureka moment. That's what she was.

"Good morning, sunshine," she said.

"Bonjour," I said. My voice was low and thick.

She smiled and disappeared back into the bathroom.

I realized then that I was naked. I pulled the sheet up to my armpits. But then laughed at myself.

 _It's a little late to be shy now, isn't it?_ I asked myself. _After what you did last night?_

I checked the time. It was barely 8 o'clock.

"Are you hungry?" she said.

And much to my relief, she was carrying a matching fluffy bathrobe. Despite my recent desire to rip off her bathrobe and objectify her, I was feeling rather shy about my own nakedness. She handed me the robe.

"Yes," I said. "Starving."

She walked over to the small table and picked up the bottle of wine, like she was reading the label. She kept her back to me, and I quickly slipped on the robe. Then she set the bottle down and nibbled on one of the crackers from the cheese plate.

"Well," she said. "I have about an hour before I have to go to work, so that limits our options."

"You have to go to work?" I said. I tried to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

"Yeah, I know," she said. "Bummer, right?"

I stood up and tied the fluffy belt around my waist. Then I walked toward her. I still felt the remnants of last night's pleasure between my thighs. I probably blushed.

"Super bummer," I said.

I guess she heard me approaching, because she turned around and smiled. That's when I saw a flash of something in her eyes, a hint of the woman I had seen last night. She looked me up and down.

I thought she was going to kiss me, but then she turned away and picked up another cracker.

"Anyway," I said. "I'll see you later, won't I?"

It was hard to say it. It was embarrassing. I suddenly felt like a young girl, begging for attention. I rubbed my finger along the edge of the table. I couldn't look at her, because what if she said, no, she already had plans?

"Sure!" she said. She was trying to act cool, but I heard the exclamation mark in her voice.

"You don't have any plans, then?" I said.

"No," she said. "Not that I can think of. My schedule is wide open."

"Mine, too," I said.

"Right," she said. "Obvs."

"Cool."

"Cool."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her smile.

The tension in the air was thick. Our eyes met. We both laughed nervously.

 _Oh no!_ I thought. _This isn't lust, this is something else._

"I'm sorry," I said. "I'm not usually this awkward."

"Actually," she said, "me neither."

Then she tilted her head to the side and her eyes looked up, as if trying to recall something.

"No," she added. "That's a complete lie. I'm always awkward. But, you? What do you think that means? Your being awkward?"

"Oh, I don't know," I said. "Maybe it means..."

 _That I've kind of fallen in love with you,_ I thought.

But, of course, I couldn't say that!

Eyebrows raised, she waited for me.

"Maybe it means something good," I said finally.

"I think you're right," she said.

Then she put her hand on my face. I suddenly found it hard to look in her eyes. I thought she might see a love confession there. I thought she might see the foolish naivety of my heart and laugh.

I had only let one person see that before, and it was a long time ago. Let's just say it didn't end well. Let's just say that all the guys after that had never even gotten close, no matter how hard they tried. Lord knows, I never felt nervous around Josh. That's why it was so easy to stay with him for so long. I never thought I would feel that way again, and yet, there I was, staring down at my toes, too embarrassed to look Cosima in the eyes.

_How could this happen in less than a day? There is no way I can feel like this for someone that I have just met — for someone I have to leave so soon. I've gone years and years avoiding this very feeling, and now..._

_Now, I will just have to wait for it to pass._

"So what are our options?" I said. I walked to the night stand. I picked up the menu with shaking hands. "Room service?"

"Well, there is always that. But I really hope our friend, Dan, isn't still on shift."

If she had noticed my shaking hands, she didn't mention it. Nor did she seem to mind that I had walked away from her so suddenly. No, she had let me pretend like everything was normal. She went along with my charade. She sat on the edge of the bed and carried her end of the conversation.

"Very true," I said. "I'm sure there is a restaurant downstairs."

"Those places are always overpriced."

"It's my treat."

"You don't have to do that."

"I know I don't have to...but I want to. Besides, we are running out of time."

"Wow! You're right!" she said.

She started grabbing up all of her clothes, which we had discarded the night before.

"By the way," she said. "I'm, like, always late, so, sorry in advance."

"It's fine."

She got down on her hands and knees to search under the bed. I tried to help her. I got down on my hands and knees, too. I found her stockings at the foot of the bed. I picked them up. I held them in my hands, and ran my thumbs along the patterns of roses. I remembered seeing her in them at the aquarium. I hadn't been able to make out the roses then. I felt a terrible urge to bring them to my cheek. Thank god, I didn't, because she was watching me.

"You like them?" she asked.

"Yes," I said. "They're rather beautiful."

"Keep them."

"What? I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, just because…"

I held them out to her.

"Please," she said. She waved me off. "I have tons more just like them."

I believed her. I believed that she had an entire drawer of her wardrobe dedicated to stockings just like these. I liked that idea.

She stood up.

"I'll be just a minute," she said, and she slipped back into the bathroom with an armful of clothes.

I sat on my knees on the floor at the foot of the bed. After I heard the bathroom door close, I did bring the stockings to my face. The fabric was rough against my cheek. And then, guiltily, I pressed them to my nose. They smelled like baby powder and sweat, like Cosima had smelled on the dance floor. I felt my face light up. I felt my body light up, too.

 _Yes,_ I thought. _Maybe it is me that is shining, after all._


	12. Chapter 12

She stepped out of the bathroom in her red dress from the night before, minus the stockings and the thick eyeliner. She pulled her hair up onto the top of her head, and I watched the muscles in her arms do their graceful little dance. Lastly, she walked over to the nightstand and slipped the rings back onto her fingers, one by one.

I remembered the moment she had taken them off, and I felt a small shiver.

"Are we all set?" I said.

I had already put on the same pair of jeans and tank top from the day before.

"Ready, Freddy," she said. She picked up her purse.

"Who is Freddy?" I said.

"It's just an expression."

I opened the door for her.

"I don't get it," I said.

"Never mind," she said. "I work with kids. It's a kid thing."

"Oh, I see. In that case, I'm ready, Freddy."

We were standing face to face, with the door open. She smiled at me. She hesitated. Then she reached her hand out and touched my shirt, below my waist. She looked down at her hand as she played with the white cotton fabric.

"So, um," she said. "I had a really good time with you. Last night, I mean."

"Yeah. Me, too."

She looked up at me briefly, then looked out the open door. She lowered her voice.

"I don't do this kind of thing often," she said. "I mean, I don't want you to think that I'm, like, some kind of player, or something."

"No," I said. "I definitely don't think that."

"Okay, good. Cause I'm, like, the opposite of a player. I'm, like, a benchwarmer, usually."

"Me, too. Don't worry."

"Get out of here," she said. She pushed me gently.

"What?"

"You must get tons of guys!"

"Non, non."

She looked at me sideways.

"Look," I said. "I've never even...been with a woman before. If you're a benchwarmer, then, I'm not even in the stadium. I'm out in the parking lot somewhere."

"Oh yeah?" she said.

"Yeah."

"You could've fooled me," she said, playfully nudging me.

"Cosima," I said, touching her arm.

 _I like you. A lot,_ I thought.

"Seriously, don't worry," I said instead.

She looked up at me, relieved. She sighed.

"Okay."

She was blushing.

I was blushing.

If I was supposed to be waiting for my feelings about her to pass, then I was doing a terrible job. With every shade of pink she turned, my heart turned with her. I grabbed her hand and squeezed it.

"We're late," I said.

"Right!" she said. "See what I was talking about? Always late."

We got into the elevator, and things were quiet. Then, much to our surprise, the same man got in the elevator — the one that had ridden up with us the night before. He was wearing different pants, but his habit of pulling them up at the waist was the same. He didn't have a toothpick, but he was sucking at his teeth instead.

Cosima looked at me, and her eyes went wide. I only glanced at her, but this time, she didn't brush her pinky against mine.

_Disappointed._

We had just enough time for a quick breakfast. Luckily, it was a breakfast buffet. No lines, no wait. I piled my plate with food, more food than I would normally eat in the morning, but somehow, I felt completely famished.

 _I wonder why that could be?_ I thought.

Then I smirked at myself.

"Okay," she said. She looked at her wristwatch. "I have approximately thirteen minutes and twenty seconds to scarf this down. So, forgive me if I'm not chatty."

"I completely understand," I said.

"But, I can listen," she said. "So, please feel free to talk my ear off. I mean, I want to know everything about you, but not in, like, a stalker-ish way. Just in a speed-dating kind of way."

I laughed.

"Okay," I said. "Well, what do you want to know?"

"First of all, what's your favorite color?"

"Probably black," I said. "Non, white. Non, black."

"Okay, so… monochromatic?"

She took a huge bite of food, mumbling her next question anyway.

"What about your favorite food, and/or, drink?"

"Are food and drinks the same thing? I think that can be two categories," I said.

"Answer as you like."

"Then, I would have to say, truffles," I said. "And wine. It's cliche, I know."

"Ah-ha! You're a chocolate girl," she said. "Note to self."

She made an invisible check mark in the air with her index finger.

"What do you want to do with your life?" she said.

"Hmm," I said. "That's a tough one. Can I get back to you?"

"Yeah, you're right," she said. "Maybe it's too heavy for breakfast. We need to smoke another joint first."

I laughed.

"Well, do you have any brothers or sisters?" she said.

"Yes," I said. "I have an older brother, but we don't really talk much."

"Hmm," she said. "Is there a back story there?"

"Not really," I said. "He's much older than me. We don't really have a lot in common."

"Okay," she said between bites. "What about pets?"

"Pets?" I said. "Non, non. I don't have time for pets."

"Right, PhD. Obviously. So what is your dissertation about?"

"Oh, you don't really want to know about that," I said. "Not over breakfast."

"Yeah, I do," she said. "At least, tell me the title."

"The title alone would take an entire minute to spit out," I said.

"Don't be shy," she said. "I can take it."

"Alright," I said. "The title is, _Natural Killer Cell Activation, Trafficking, and Contribution to Immune Responses to Viral Pathogens."_

"Wow," she said. Then she leaned forward over the table. "I think you just turned me on a little bit."

"Shut up!" I said. I know I was blushing. I could tell that my face was hot and red. I looked around to see if anyone else heard her.

"No, I'm serious," she said. "You'll have to tell me _all_ about it later."

She took a sip of her coffee and looked up at me.

"You're so cheeky," I said.

"Speaking of which," she said. "I will be done around four. But maybe I should go home to freshen up. So... dinner, later?"

"Oui," I said. "Bien sûr."

Her eyes lit up and she perked up a bit.

"What does that mean?" she said.

"It means, of course," I said.

"Bien sûr," she said.

 _God! I can't stand it!_ I thought. _I want to squeeze her face off when she speaks French._

"Don't you have to go?" I said.

"Yes, yes," she said. "Bien sûr."

She wiped her mouth with the white linen napkin. Then she stood. I stood, too.

"You stay," she said. "Please."

"No, it's fine," I said. "It's fine."

I walked her out of the restaurant. And soon we found ourselves facing each other in the middle of the lobby with its marble floor and high ceiling. The place felt big, but the space between us felt small — and so easy to cross into each other's embrace.

I had meant to just kiss her cheek, but, as Americans often do, she pulled me into a hug.

It wasn't a pat on the back, half-bodied hug. It was a full-frontal, my-face-in-her-hair embrace. She held me close, with her hands between my shoulder blades. I have to admit, I was kind of disarmed for a moment. I leaned into her, and then I realized there were other people around.

I pulled away. I looked away. Okay, to tell the truth, I kind of freaked out for a moment.

I looked around the room, but luckily, no one was paying much attention to us.

She let me push her away, but she held onto my arms, fingers gripping my triceps. She gave me one extra squeeze before letting go.

"So, I'll see you tonight?" she said. She looked up at me with her brown eyes, now less hidden by eyeliner, now more vulnerable.

I heard a tiny quiver in her voice.

"Yes, definitely," I said. "About what time?"

"Hmm," she said. She was making a big show about thinking about it, but I could tell something else was on her mind. It was all over her face.

"How about six-ish?" she said. She looked so shy, suddenly.

 _Merde,_ I thought. _What have I done?_

"Where?" I said.

"I'll have to think of someplace good," she said. She wasn't looking me in the eyes. "I'll text you later, okay?"

"Sounds perfect," I said.

"Okay," she said. "I should really, really go."

"Yes, of course," I said. I waved slightly.

"Bye," she said.

She turned around quickly. Then she was out the revolving door, and I was left standing in the middle of that lobby. I might as well have been standing in the middle of the San Francisco Bay — that's how alone I felt.

"Au revoir, Cosima," I said to myself, because she was already gone.

 _What am I going to do with myself now?_ I thought. _And why am I such a fool?_


	13. Chapter 13

I made my way back to my room, and I was kicking myself the whole way. Fool, or not, I had gotten a little scared, and Cosima had gotten a little hurt. I had to make it right.

As soon as I entered my room, I went straight for my clutch, which was sitting on the table, next to the unopened wine and the plate of cheese. I had meant to pick up the bag — to look for my phone — but I picked up the wine bottle instead. I felt its weight in my hands. It was heavy with unfulfilled potential; a promise to be consumed at a later time.

 _Unless I have fucked things up,_ I thought.

I sat the bottle down and took out my phone.

I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was, because I had over twenty new messages on my phone, and some missed calls, too. All from Josh.

"Merde," I said.

I don't think I need to repeat the contents of his messages here. But I will say there was a definite arc to what he had been saying, starting with statements of shock, then apologies, angry outbursts and finally, this morning, cold negotiations.

"When are you coming to get your stuff?" his last message said. He had just sent it that morning.

I sighed. Of course, I knew I didn't have a choice. I would have to go get my things sooner or later. I couldn't wear the same tank top and jeans for three days straight. But the hard eventuality of the situation didn't make me feel any better about it. I felt a knot in my stomach. It was the size of a break-up and a lover's spat combined.

 _This is turning out to be a bad day,_ I thought. _Not what I had expected at all._

"I will come today," I wrote.

That was all I wrote. I figured it was best to keep these things short. I also figured it was best to completely ignore the avalanche of insults he had dumped on me, via text, the night before.

Although, to be honest, nothing he had said to me could make me feel as bad as I already did, about a completely different person. His insults had always been like throwing flower petals at chainmail. Come to think of it, that's how it was with most people. Not many people got past that chainmail I had draped around my heart. It had always been a secret source of pride for me. I had always been unshakable.

And now, there was this woman, with scars and armor of her own, though charming armor it was. Somehow, I had managed to get a shot in on her, in a place that hurt — that much I could tell by her eyes, and how they wouldn't look at me. And, somehow, by hurting her, I had also hurt myself.

I don't generally consider myself a regretful person, but I sat on the edge of that bed, and I wished that I could take back the last fifteen minutes of my life.

I started to text her.

"I'm sorry," I started. But then, I didn't know what else to say. I didn't even know what I was sorry for, not exactly. Was I sorry for pushing her away, or for feeling embarrassed to begin with?

 _Should I be sorry for an emotion?_ I thought. _And how to do I say all of that in a text?_

So, I deleted everything. I stared at the screen of my phone, thumbs at the ready. The cursor blinked back at me.

_Fool. Fool. Fool._

When I looked up I saw Cosima's jean jacket slung over the back of the chair. I smiled. I walked over to it. I picked it up. I slipped it on. I sighed.

I imagined her rubbing my arms to keep me warm.

 _I will send a peace offering,_ I thought.

I took a picture of myself in her jacket. I popped the collar up, so that she couldn't miss it. I smiled my cheesiest smile and clicked.

I sent it to her.

"You forgot something," I wrote.

I fell backwards into the bed, with my phone in my hand. I was waiting for the vibration that let me know she had received my apology. I waited and waited, but no answer came.

"This is crazy," I told myself.

I decided to take a shower while I was waiting. I stood up. I tossed the phone into the pile of sheets on the bed.

I looked at myself in the mirror. Her jacket fit me perfectly. I hoped she could see that. I hoped she knew. I sighed again, and then I took it off. I started taking the rest of my clothes off, too, until I was only in my underwear. I was watching myself, but I'm not sure exactly what I was watching for. I had expected somehow to look different, to feel different than the person I was yesterday morning. But, outwardly, no, nothing had changed. Everything was status quo. I felt a pang of something that was not quite disappointment, but might be described as a let down — an anticlimax.

Then I took off my bra. And there it was, a small mark on my breast. It was a Cosima sized mark. I touched it with my fingertip and remembered her eyes, the way she had looked up at me when she did it. I felt a shiver of relief. I had found the proof that something had, indeed, changed. Something had happened. Something...magical? I shivered again.

Just then I heard the muffled vibration of my phone. I leapt toward the bed.

"When are you coming?" the message said.

I was confused and then I understood.

"Josh!" I said in exasperation.

"Not sure," I wrote.

"I might be out," he wrote back.

"I see," I wrote. "Then when is good for you?"

"Nevermind. Just come whenever you want. My mom will be home," he wrote.

 _Oh, great!_ I thought.

I tossed my phone away from me. Still no word from Cosima.

I needed a shower, but my body felt incredibly heavy, like it was opposed to the idea. I was unable to wash away the night's memories until I had heard from her. I waited and waited. I waited so long that I began to doze off.

Then I felt the phone like a jolt. I sat up straight.

 _That better not be you, Josh,_ I thought.

But it wasn't Josh! It was a photo of Cosima's hand. She was giving me a thumbs up. I would know her hand anywhere, with the red nail polish and thumb ring.

"It looks good on you," she wrote.

 _She forgives me!_ I thought. _Or, at least, is willing to go on like nothing happened._

"I thought so, too," I wrote. "And by the way, we still have this bottle of wine!"

"All good things come to those who wait," she wrote.

"I hate waiting!" I wrote.

I was giggling like a schoolgirl, all alone in the middle of that bed. I looked at the picture of her hand again. How could one hand give me all of those feelings?

She had taken the picture in the office at the museum. I saw her red dress hanging in her locker in the background. I knew what that meant. That meant that at that very moment, she was wearing her khakis and polo. And I was completely topless. It gave me a thrill.

"What are you wearing now?" I wrote.

"Your favorite outfit," she said. "Should I take a picture?"

"Oui ! S'il te plaît !" I wrote.

Then, it popped up, a self-portrait of her in the same outfit she had been wearing when I first met her. She smiled, but she looked tired. I wanted to hug her. I wanted to kiss her and say that I was so sorry that I had pushed her away. I wanted to make a thousand promises to never do it again.

"And what are you wearing?" She wrote back.

"I can't tell you," I said. "It's too risque."

"That's not fair!" she said. "Send me a picture."

The idea sent shivers down my thighs, but I did as she said. When I hit the send button I felt a rush of blood. God, I was throbbing.

In response, she sent me an assortment of punctuation marks, smiley faces and hearts. I felt each one slip past my chainmail and nail me right where it hurts. But it was a happy hurt.

"How can I work after you sent me that?" she wrote.

"Good things come to those who wait," I wrote.

"I hate you," she wrote.

I laughed and jumped out of bed. I felt light. I felt ready to take on the world. I felt ready to take on Josh's mom. And, you know why? Because, Cosima couldn't wait to see me. Because, she had slipped beneath the chainmail that I had wrapped around my heart, and I had become stronger for it.

 _She forgives me!_ I thought again. _No matter what else happens today, it's going to be a good day!_


	14. Chapter 14

So I made my way back out of the city and back into the suburbs. I made my way up the hill that overlooked the Bay. I stood on the curb, in front of Josh's house and looked down on the city. I knew that Cosima was down there somewhere. I knew that she was charming school children with anecdotes of alligators. I hoped that she was thinking of me, and that she would be waiting for me tonight. That thought was what gave me the final push to approach the house and ring the bell.

 _Let's get this over with,_ I thought.

His mother answered the door. She stood behind a screen, and I couldn't see more than a rough outline of her round body.

"Oh, Delphine!" she said. "Josh said you might be stopping by."

"Yes," I said. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you."

"No, not at all!" she said in that overly enthusiastic way that Americans sometimes speak. But still, she didn't open the door. I felt her eyes examining me, even if I couldn't see them.

"Come in, come in," she finally said.

"Thank you," I said and stepped into the cool interior of the house.

"Would you like a glass of iced tea?"

"Oh, no thank you," I said. "I should probably be quick."

"Why don't you stay a while? Josh will be home soon. I'm sure he wants to see you… things being so abrupt and all."

"I think I'll just go upstairs," I said. "Do you mind?"

"Be my guest."

I started to climb the stairs, and I felt her eyes on me again. She stood at the foot of the stairs and watched me go up.

"I know Josh can be kind of a butthead," she said. "All men can be sometimes."

I stopped mid-step, but I didn't turn around.

"Are you sure you guys can't patch things up?" she said.

"I'm sure," I said.

I had to look at her when I said it. She stood with one hand on her hip and one hand on the railing.

"Well, that's a real shame. A real shame."

"Yes," I said. "It is."

We stared at each other for a moment. I felt a little bit like she was pressuring me to change my mind. She had an intimidating presence, similar to a pushy salesman. For any outside observer, we may as well have been awkwardly negotiating the price of a used car.

"I should go."

"Yep, yep," she said. "If that's how you really feel."

When I got to the bedroom, my brow was covered with sweat.

 _Jesus!_ I thought. _What a pushy family! No wonder!_

I threw all of my things into my suitcase, not worrying about tidiness. I cleared the dresser of my cosmetics, and the brochures and the guide books, too. I poured it all into the suitcase and a small backpack. I was thankful for being such a light packer. I was thankful for my natural tendency to be ready for a quick getaway.

 _When and where, exactly, had I learned that skill?_ I thought.

I glanced in the bathroom one more time, and then in the closet, to make sure I hadn't left anything behind. The last thing I needed was to leave behind an invitation for further contact.

At the last minute, I decided to change my shirt before heading out the door.

It was a mistake. Not that that single minute would have made a difference, but at least, I could have been out the door, instead of being trapped upstairs.

"Delphine!" I heard Josh say. His voice came in from outside. "Delphine, wait!"

"Merde!" I said.

With my suitcase and backpack in hand, I hurried down the stairs. But when I was halfway down, I saw Josh push open the screen door. I saw his mother standing in the entry to the kitchen, watching us both.

 _Of course!_ I thought. _She wasn't here to let me in. She was here as a lookout!_

"Delphine, wait," Josh said, blocking the front door. I felt like a sheep in a den of wolves. I had no idea how to get around these people.

"No."

"Come on," he said. "Let's talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about."

"What did I do that was so terrible? If you want to go to museums, I'll take you to every museum in the city! I'll completely clear my schedule for the next two days."

"This isn't about museums, Josh," I said. "And it isn't about you."

"Then what is it about?"

"Me!" I said. "It's about me."

He looked genuinely confused.

His mother crossed her arms.

"Look, I've got to go," I said. "I'm very grateful to you and your family for everything you've done for me, really. But this is just something I have to do for myself."

I took a few tentative steps down the stairs.

"Don't you think you at least owe Josh an apology," his mother said.

I felt a flush of anger then, like I have never experienced before. If I thought I was mad at Josh for his petty selfishness, then that didn't even compare to this new feeling. She saw my rage, I think, and she took a step forward. She was bracing for a fight.

"Well," I said. "I'm sorry that Josh's feelings got hurt in the middle of all of this, but no, I'm not sorry for leaving."

She shifted her weight and huffed.

"After all we did for you," she said. "That's the last time I'll bring a foreigner into this house."

My face was on fire. The heat rose up from my chest, radiating up, all the way to the top of my scalp. I could barely hear straight, with all the bells ringing in my ears. My heart pounded as I clenched the leather handle of my suitcase.

"It's that woman, isn't it?" Josh said. "That scientist woman?"

"What woman?" his mother said.

I relished in the look of surprise on her face. He hadn't told her the whole story, obviously.

"Yes," I said. "Yes, if you must know. It is her."

"Wait," his mother repeated. "What woman?"

"Her name is Cosima," I said. I stepped all the way down the stairs, and stood in the landing between them. I directed my body toward the woman, who wasn't so sure of herself anymore.

"We met yesterday," I said. "She's beautiful and smart and sexy."

With every word, I saw her lose her footing. She was off balance, and looking for something to lean on.

 _Take her out!_ I thought.

"She's a better kisser than your son," I said. "She's a better lay, too."

She took a step backwards, and gasped.

"Oh yeah, last night I fucked her brains out," I said, but I almost spit it. She felt it like the insult it was meant to be.

"How dare you?" she said, but it was barely a harsh whisper.

"Oh, yeah," I said. "That's right, and I've got an appointment to fuck her again tonight — all night. So I think you can understand why I can't stick around."

 _Knock out!_ I thought.

Her face bright red, she opened her mouth to say something. Nothing came out.

She gaped for a moment, looking back and forth between Josh and myself. She began huffing and puffing.

True to my word, I didn't stick around. I pushed past Josh, and I was out the door. I heard the screen door slam shut behind me. I was already two houses down the street when I heard the door open again.

"You can't talk to me like that!" she shouted after me. "How dare you?! How dare you?!"

I kept walking, with a huge grin on my face, despite the resounding ringing in my ears. For all I cared, she was just a barking dog — easily ignored — maybe even laughed at.

"You ungrateful little French bitch!" she shouted after me.

Josh said nothing.

I walked on, and eventually I reached a busy intersection and managed to hail a cab. I looked out the front window. Ahead of me, I saw the beautiful city of San Francisco drawing closer. I knew Cosima was waiting for me, and I hoped that we really would fuck each other's brains out that night. Not out of vengeance, of course, but because we wanted to. Although, the vengeance thing would make it all the sweeter!


	15. Chapter 15

"You did not say that!" Cosima said to me.

She leaned over the table, her shoulders forward. She held a half-full wine glass in her hand and I had just explained the whole showdown with Josh's mom.

"Yes, I definitely did," I said. "But I'm not really proud of it. Maybe I went too far."

"Maybe," she said. She took a sip of her wine. "Or maybe not."

"No, I definitely did. It was like I wasn't me for a minute, you know?"

"It sounds to me like you are quite proud of yourself," she said.

"Maybe I am," I said. "It's true, all the things I said about you."

She had picked me up from the hotel just after six and taken me to her favorite Italian restaurant. I was waiting for her, because I had been waiting for her all day. I had been in my hotel bathroom, trying on every piece of clothing I had brought with me. I was putting my hair up and taking it down. I was making my eyes smoky, and my lips red, and then rubbing it all off. I was doing all of that for her. I wanted everything to be perfect. I wanted to feel perfect.

"Anyway," I said. "Let's not talk about unpleasant things. How was your day?"

"No, no," she said. She had an expression that was hard to read. "I think we should talk about it. Especially the part where you said you fucked me. Did you use those words, exactly?"

When she had arrived at the hotel, she was waiting in the lobby. She was standing in the middle of the marble floor, where she had left me that morning. She was dressed in black mostly, with a lovely red scarf around her neck. I saw a businessman check her out as he passed by. She didn't even notice him. She was looking around the room, holding something behind her back — flowers.

 _This one is a real gentleman,_ I had thought.

"Well, yes," I said. "But it was more for effect. I mean, I was trying to shock her. Are you offended?"

"Hmm," she said. "The women's-studies-minor-feminist in me is telling me that I should be offended, that I shouldn't allow someone to objectify me, no matter the gender or sex of the objectifier."

"I see," I said. "I'm sorry. It was crass. Forget I said it. You know that I don't really think of you that way."

"But then, there is this other part of me, I guess you can call it my inner optimist, that glazed right over the objectification and went straight to the part where you talk about doing it all again tonight."

I felt her foot rub against my calf beneath the table.

"So you're not angry?" I said.

"Maybe I'm angry, a little," she said. "But I'm more curious."

I had to look away for a moment, to take a breath. But I kept my foot right where it was. And she kept just barely touching my calf. I started to squirm in my chair.

The restaurant was small, and what you might call cozy. There weren't more than six tables. The walls were covered in a mural of a Tuscan townscape, as if we could stand up and walk off into the sunset. The waitress was dressed in a tuxedo shirt and tie. The bar was covered in empty wine bottles with pretty labels.

"I like this place," I said. I had my hand on my neck. She was kind of making me nervous.

"Yeah," she said. "Me, too. I come here often."

"Do you bring girls here often?" I said. I had meant it to be a joke.

"No, no," she said. "Of course not. I told you, bench warmer."

"Cosima," I said. "I'm just teasing you."

"Oh."

"By the way," I said. "Since this is our second date, I think I should know your last name."

"Ah-ha!" she said. "Isn't it more mysterious if we stay on a first name basis? Romantic international love affair and all?"

"I suppose. But I don't really like mysterious. I mean, what is so appealing about mysterious things?"

"The mystery, of course," she said.

"I guess, but I just don't get it," I said. "I know girls who just die when they meet some handsome, mysterious guy, and I want to tell them, he is not mysterious, he is self-involved and probably has commitment issues."

"Fair enough," Cosima said.

We stared at each other for a minute. She smiled. "So you don't like mysteries?"

"Non," I said. "Of course I like mysteries. How could I be a scientist if I didn't like mysteries?"

"Uh-huh," she said. She swirled the wine around at the bottom of her glass.

"I just don't like when people are described as mysterious," I said. "What does that even mean? Why is it a good thing?"

"So you don't think anything about this situation is mysterious?" she said. She leaned back in her chair. I felt a cool spot on my leg where her foot had been.

"What situation?" I said.

"This one," she said. She pointed back and forth between us.

"Between us?" I said. "Are we mysterious?"

"I mean, what is happening between us… you don't think it's mysterious?"

I had to take a deep breath. I had to think about that one.

"I have to think about that one," I said. I took a long drink of my wine.

"Well," she said. "I'll tell you how I see it... from my point of view."

"Okay. I'm listening."

"Yesterday afternoon was just like every other afternoon in my very predictable, boring life. And then this woman starts talking to me. And then I realize that she is French. And then I realize she is flirting with me. Even if everything had stopped there, that would have been, like, a very good day for me, you know?"

"Oui."

"But since I know she is flirting with me, and since I know I have nothing to lose, I invite her out that night, and much to my surprise, this woman, this beautiful stranger, actually shows up, and she is wearing, like this, crazy-sexy black dress. So, I think, oh my god, this girl is really into me. And I think, wait a minute, this girl has a boyfriend."

"Okay," I said. "I see where you're going with this."

"Wait," Cosima said. "It gets better. As it turns out, this woman has dumped her boyfriend only a few hours before, after following him to San Francisco from Paris. And now, she is dancing with me? Can you believe that such a thing can really happen?"

"It can," I said. "Because it did happen."

"Then, somehow, through some miracle of the homo-gods, I end up in the hotel room of this beautiful woman, and even though I'm pretty sure she's straight and nothing will happen, we have a lot of fun flirting with each other anyway. I am more than happy to have that be the end to my already incredibly amazing day."

"Hey," I said. "I never said that I was straight. I mean, I don't know what I am, but…"

"Wait," she said. "I'm still not finished."

"I see."

"So I thought we would just smoke a joint and hang out and that would be the end of it. But then, this woman proceeds to, how did you put it?" Cosima said.

Then she leaned forward and whispered, "To fuck my brains out, like she has been doing it all her life."

I was blushing and blushing. I was squeezing my thighs together under the table. I took another drink of wine.

"I told you," I said. "Honestly, I've never done it before."

"So," Cosima said. "You tell me, who here, is the mysterious one?"

She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, as if she had rested her case. As if her case had been fully rested and it was time for the jury to make a decision. I looked around the room. Luckily, no one else was listening to her arguments. The jury was out.

"Touché," I said. "Well, when you put it that way, my full name is Delphine Marie Cormier."

"Cosima Niehaus," she said. "Enchantée."

I blushed again, just as the food was brought out. It was placed between us, and it smelled divine. It smelled like fresh spices and freshly baked bread and freshly grated parmesan cheese. My mouth was watering and I realized I was sweating. I was on the verge of sensory overload, but I was happy to have a distraction.

"More wine?" Cosima asked, holding up the bottle, ready to pour.

"Oui!" I said.

As she poured, something nagged at the back of my mind.

"But, really," I said. "I'm really not that mysterious, am I?"

"Of course, you're mysterious," she said. "It's part of your allure. Don't tell me you don't know."

"Oh, please. I'm an open book."

"Come on," she said. "I see how you are."

"How am I?" I said. I felt myself getting a little defensive.

"All sweet and innocent, with your 'Non,' and 'Oui.' But now I know better. I know your secret."

"What secret?" I said. "I don't have any secrets!"

"It's so secret, I bet you didn't even know it yourself," she said. She held her butter knife in her hand and playfully pointed the end at me.

"Please, then, do inform me," I said.

"Alright," she said. She put her fork and knife down on the table, and then leaned real close to me.

"You, Delphine Marie Cormier, are a top," she said.

"A what?" I said. I had an idea of what she was trying to say, but I wanted her to clarify anyway.

"You're a top," she repeated, this time more matter-of-factly. "You like to, you know, be the top."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" I said.

Just then, the waitress decided it was the perfect time to come to our table and fill our water glasses. Cosima and I stared at each other. I saw that dark thing rising up in her. I saw it in her eyes, and in her blushing cheeks. Even her chest was blushing under her red scarf. God, I wanted to kiss her neck. I felt her foot on my calf again. We both waited for the waitress to leave. We both waited in silence. I had to clear my throat.

"What do you think I'm saying?" she said when the woman was gone.

"Oh, no," I said. "You started this, you tell me."

"Okay," she said. "I think, that if given the choice, during intimate activities, you would prefer to be the one giving it, instead of being the one getting it."

"I see," I said. I was trying to decide if I agreed with her or not. I looked at her sideways. I took a large bite of pasta to buy myself some time.

"You're a pitcher, not a catcher," she said with a shrug of her shoulders.

"What is a pitcher and catcher?"

"You know, in baseball? The pitcher throws the ball and the catcher catches it, obviously."

"Baseball isn't a big thing in France," I said. "And why do you keep using sports metaphors?"

"Metaphors aside," she said. She made a large sweeping gesture with her hand. Then she pointed to herself. "I'm right, right?"

"I don't know," I said. "The sample pool is too small. I think there isn't enough data available to reach an accurate conclusion."

"Well," she said. "That can be remedied."

And then she added, purely for my satisfaction, "Bien sûr."


	16. Chapter 16

I stood on the curb in front of the restaurant while Cosima paid. I held my roses tightly in my hands. I put them to my face and took a deep breath. But I did it quickly, before she could come out. It was embarrassing, somehow, the amount that I liked the roses.

 _When was the last time someone bought me roses?_ I thought.

"Pretty roses for a pretty woman," I heard a man say. "You don't see that much anymore these days."

I looked up and saw a bearded man standing by a shopping cart. His cart was loaded heavily, possibly with every item that he owned. He stood with both hands on the handle of the cart, as if he had a destination in mind and was about to set out on his journey.

"Oh?" I said. Then I realized he was talking to me. "Oh, oui? Thank you."

"Parlez-vous français?" he said in a heavy, heavy American accent. Then he did a flourish with his hand and bowed.

"Oui. Vous aussi, vous parlez français ?" I said. I was more excited about it than I had anticipated.

He looked at me blankly. Then he started rummaging through his cart, as if he had forgotten that he had started a conversation altogether. I shrugged my shoulders and turned away, but I was a little disappointed that he didn't actually speak French.

Then, I heard the bell on the restaurant door jingle. Cosima came out and stood next to me.

"Where to next?" she said.

"I'm following you."

"Oh, man," she said. "Pressure."

Then she slid her body up real close to mine, the way a cat does when it wants something. She touched my shirt again at the hip, the way she had that morning, when she had stopped me in the doorway of the hotel room.

 _Is this Cosima's coy gesture?_ I thought.

"I _would_ just take to you to back my place," she said, but it was more like a purr.

Then she switched back to her real voice. "But the night is still young, and there is still so much you haven't seen."

"I'm not picky. I'll go wherever you go."

She smiled, knowingly. She touched my arm, and I found that my arm curled up on its own, to provide the perfect place for her to slip her hand, right into the crook of my elbow. It happened fast, like a reflex, and then we were walking arm-in-arm. She led me down the street.

The man began singing behind us.

"Pretty womans, walking down the street, pretty womans, the kind I'd like to meet," he sang at the top of his lungs.

"Oh, dear," I said. "I think that's somehow my fault."

Cosima turned to look behind us. "Oh, no, don't worry about it," she said. "That's Walking Man Joe. He's the happiest vagrant in the city. Unless you are blocking the crosswalk, then watch out."

"I see. I'll try to remember that."

"Ah-ha!," she said suddenly. "I know where we should go!"

"Where?" I said.

"It's a surprise," she said. "But I'm, like, 94 percent sure that you'll like it."

"I like surprises," I said cheerfully, then a thought struck me. I added, "As long as I don't have to dance."

I couldn't see her face directly, but I imagined that her eyes sparkled at the memory of my terrible dancing. She became quiet, with her lips pursed tightly.

"Hey," I said. I nudged her with my elbow. "Don't get any ideas."

"Okay, okay. I promise."

We walked in silence for a few strides.

"So, where did you learn to dance?" I asked. "You've studied dance, no?"

"Yes, actually," she said. "My parents put me in dance classes when I was in third grade, to channel all of my extra energy. But now, I just smoke pot to chill out."

She laughed at herself, distantly.

"I stayed with it all the way through high school," she added. "I was pretty good, too."

"I believe it."

"I was accepted to the San Francisco Conservatory of Dance," she said. "And I almost went."

"Why didn't you?"

"That," she started, then she took a deep breath and spoke the rest as a kind of sigh. "That, is a very long, and very embarrassing story."

"Hmm. Well, you have already heard — and sort of lived through — my long embarrassing story, so I think we are even."

"Alright, alright," she said. She took another deep breath. "Alright, there was a girl."

"Of course," I said. "Isn't there always?"

As we walked, we huddled close together, not because it was cold, but because we wanted to. There is a certain sweetness, the sweetness of a body — fully clothed — brushing against another body. There is a certain sweet friction of fabric that lights up the imagination. That was where my mind was at that moment.

"Anyway," she continued. "We went to the same high school. She was this new, cool girl. And let me state for the record, that she seduced me. And! She asked me to be her girlfriend, like, practically begged me, okay?"

"Okay, I think I got it."

"Things were good, and I guess I kind of fell in love with her and we applied to the program together," she said.

"Let me guess, you were accepted and she wasn't."

"Even worse," Cosima said. "We both got accepted into the program, and then she dumped me, the next day."

"Ouch!" I said. I said it too loudly, almost cheerfully, because I was still thinking about her body next to mine, and the friction between us.

"Yeah," Cosima said. "She said she wanted to start new, with a blank slate or something. With no expectations or boundaries."

"So," Cosima said with her hand in the air. "So, she said, we could go together, but we couldn't _go together_."

She stressed the last 'go together' with air-quotations. Her fingers went up into the air like a pair of bunny ears. I felt the sudden urge to put those bunny-eared fingers right into my mouth. I blushed and shook my head.

"What a bitch!" I said.

"What a bitch, right?"

"So, now you're an evolutionary biologist," I said.

"Yeah," she said. Then she added, with more than a touch of sarcasm. "And that really impresses the ladies, let me tell you."

"It impressed me," I said quietly.

I saw her head turn down. She squeezed my arm and I knew she was blushing. Then she took a deep breath and looked up.

"It's fine," she said. "I don't think I could have handled a career in the performing arts anyway. It's too much pressure, you know?"

"I can't even begin to imagine," I said. "So, where is this girl now?"

"Now?" she said, as if the question was one she hadn't considered before.

"Yes," I said. "Is she still dancing?"

"No, actually," she said. "The last I heard, she was married and had two children."

"Wow," I said. "That really was a blank slate."

"Yep."

She turned to face me. We had arrived at the crosswalk, and the red hand on the walk sign advised us to stay still. She had let her hand drop away from my elbow. The breeze picked up, and blew around the fine hairs at the edge of her temples.

"It was all for the best, though," she said. "I think I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be, you know?"

I reached for her hand.

"Oui," I said. "Je suis d'accord."

I saw her smile grow two times larger. I squeezed her hand. She squeezed mine back.

"That girl is an idiot," I said. "She made a big mistake."

"Thanks," she said.

I touched her cheek.

I was about to kiss her. She looked up at me with wide eyes, like she couldn't believe it was happening. I couldn't believe it, either, but I leaned. Her body came closer to mine, and she slipped her hands onto my hips. I leaned over and she leaned up, and then…

"Walking man! Walking man!" shouted Walking Man Joe. His shopping cart rattled up behind us, and he had no intention of stopping, whether we moved out of his way or not.

"Walking man! Walk! Walk!" he shouted.

I pulled Cosima out of his path as he rumbled past. Then he was out in the crosswalk and on his way, the tails of his trenchcoat kicking up behind him. She still clung to me. Her arms were wrapped around my ribcage tight. I breathed in the baby powder smell of her hair. We laughed.

"That was close," Cosima said. "I think I saw my whole life pass before my eyes."

"Oh, yeah?" I said. "How was it?"

"Well… at least, it ended well," she said. Then she laughed and we kept walking.

When we arrived at our destination, I discovered that she had taken me to the Bi-Rite Creamery. Her eyes were bright like a child's.

"It's the best ice cream in the city," she explained. "Maybe in the whole state."

That would explain the line that filed out of the shop, down the sidewalk and around the corner.

"It's a wait," she said. "But it's totally worth it."

I'm not sure how long we stood in line, but it didn't seem so long, because it seemed like there was an infinite number of things to talk about. She asked about my thesis, and I explained, first superficially, but then, I saw genuine interest in her eyes, so before I knew it, I was talking fast and in depth. I was going on and on, and the people around us would sometimes glance in my direction.

"I'm sorry," I said. "Am I boring you? This is really boring stuff."

"No, not at all," she said. She touched my arm.

And when I exhausted that topic, we easily moved on to the next. I was listening to her with my whole body. If she smiled, I would smile. If she laughed, I would laugh. If she moved her hands in the air, in a thousand different gestures, I felt my own hands wishing to shadow hers.

I was listening to her words, but I was watching her body. I was watching the way her hips would sway this way or that, or the way she would tilt her head to the side when she was trying to recall something, or the way she would cross and uncross her arms. I realized then, that I was doing all of those things, too, in tandem with her.

 _We are dancing after all_ , I thought.

I smiled at the thought.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"What?"

"You're laughing," she said. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just nice to meet someone who gets it, you know? Someone who gets me?"

"Yeah, ditto," she said. "Obviously."

By that time, we had arrived at the counter. Cosima ordered salted caramel and I ordered chocolate. We felt victorious as we walked out of the shop, like we had really accomplished something. She led me across the street to a park.

"This is my favorite park in the city," she said. "Just wait for the view."

She led me through the park, which was essentially a hill. She took me up a winding path to the top of the hill. And though it was already dark, there were still lots of people out. At the top of the hill was an elaborate playground, what one might call a designer playground. There were even a few children playing, though it must have been past their bedtime. Cosima hurried me to an empty bench before someone else could take it.

"Wait!" she said. "Before you turn around, you have to close your eyes."

"Okay," I said. "But then how can I sit down?"

"Here," she said.

She grabbed my hand and turned me around. Then she sat first and pulled me down to the bench. It was not graceful. But with my bottom firmly planted on the bench, she said, "Okay, open them now."

I did and she was right.

"Wow!" I said. "It's lovely. Really lovely."

"I know, right?" she said.

The view was amazing. The hill seemed perched on top of that entire end of the city. The park itself was lit up with fluorescent street lamps reflecting off of rows of palm trees. I looked out over the endless rooftops of townhouses. The night sky was clear, and little red lights blinked on top of distant skyscrapers. We were surrounded on all sides by the happy sounds of people enjoying the evening. I felt a breeze kick up between our bodies. I felt Cosima come closer to me.

"How's your ice cream?" she said after a moment.

"Très bonne," I said.

"Do you want to taste mine?" she asked.

"Sure," I said.

I took the ice cream cone from her hand, and the idea of tasting something that she had just tasted was incredibly exciting to me at that moment.

I licked the ice cream, and she watched me. She watched me with dark eyes. Her face was pale in the fluorescent light, but her eyes were dark. She watched my lips and I liked it. Then her mouth curled into a tight smile — a near smirk.

"What?" I said.

"God, I like your mouth," she said.

"My mouth?"

"Oui!" she said. She was teasing me. "You have a really sexy mouth."

And then she looked away, like she couldn't stand looking at me.

"I mean, you have a pretty mouth," she said, still facing the other direction.

"Wait… Is it pretty or sexy?"

She looked back at me. "Can't it be both?" she asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yes," I said. "But which one is it _mostly_? What, exactly, is the ratio of pretty to sexy?"

She stared at my mouth directly, with a very serious expression on her face.

"Hmm," she said. "I'd say it is...fifty eight percent pretty and forty two percent sexy."

"Really?" I said. "I've never received such a specific compliment before."

"You're welcome," she said. "But seriously, I want to kiss you, like, all the time. Like, it's making my head explode right now how much I want to kiss you."

"Me, too," I said. I remembered that I had tried to tell her before in the taxi, but couldn't, not in English, at least.

I handed back her ice cream. We had a moment of intense eye-contact, what some people might call eye-sex. And yes, it made my stomach do cartwheels, and yes, it made the blood rush all around my body, but it was something else, too. Something that could be described as either deeper, or lighter, than just eye-sex.

"God," I said. I shook my head. "I think you're right."

"About what?" she said.

"About that whole mysterious thing," I said. "Back at the restaurant, you said something mysterious is happening, and I think you're right. I mean, I think something is happening here, that I really can't understand or explain. Like, I have all these feelings that I haven't had since...well, since maybe never."

"That's a good thing, though, right?" she said.

She smiled. This time she touched my face, and I realized she had not really done that before. It had always been me. I was the face-toucher here. Her touch shocked me for a moment and I stared at her.

Maybe it was the cloudless night. Maybe it was the chatter of the passersby in the street, or the distant shouting of Walking Man Joe on the street corner below. Maybe it was the glowing fluorescent palm trees or the way she touched the stray hairs just behind her ear. But all of those details suddenly collapsed in on each other, and stood out in a moment of deep clarity — but it was like the clarity of dreams, the kind that can't be expressed, only felt. I had a feeling that all those details were trying to reveal something to me, some wisdom that I was just too dense to comprehend.

Everything was mysterious and surreal and just out of my reach.

 _How did I get here?_ I thought. _So far from home, and still so, seemingly, familiar?_

"Delphine?" she said. She stroked my cheek, and then moved her hand behind my neck. She pulled me into a kiss.

I let her kiss me softly. I could still taste the wine and caramel on her breath. I felt her tongue, just for a moment, and then she pulled away. I wanted more, though. I wanted a lot more.

I grabbed her arm before she moved too far away. I leaned close to her ear. I'm not sure if it was my breath or the breeze that brought out the goosebumps on her neck.

"Take me home, Cosima," I said.


	17. Chapter 17

Cosima's house was just as I imagined it to be. It was one room, but if you could count the kitchen as a separate room, then I guess it was two small rooms. To be fair, I didn't notice the place much when we stumbled in through the heavy wooden door. I remember climbing the crooked stairs. I remember the high ceilings towered over me and made me feel small. I remember the smell of the place was strong, like spices, and invited me into its warm interior.

But then she took my hand. She pushed me against the back of the door. She slipped her jean jacket off of my shoulders. She pulled my shirt out from where it was tucked in at my skirt. She did all of this without impatience. She did it calmly, gently. She slipped her cool hand up my shirt, but stopped at my stomach. I felt my hips pushing toward her, involuntarily.

Outside, her face had seemed pale under the moon and the streetlights. Here, in this apartment, I saw the blood in her cheeks and lips. I saw the light brown flecks in her irises.

When she kissed me, she was not in a hurry.

And then she walked away. She was out in the kitchen, moving things around, opening and closing cupboards and moving pots and pans.

"Do you want a drink?" she asked.

"Sure," I said. I touched my own lips with the back of my hand and smiled to myself.

I took another step into the room, which was dominated by her bed. It was a cathedral of a bed, high and covered in burgundy pillows. I sat myself on it, testing my weight against it.

When she came back in, she held a bottle and wine glasses. She struggled to find a place to set them. The only surface in the room was her desk, but it was covered in papers and stacks of books. She nudged a few things out of the way with her elbow. Then she set the glasses down.

"Sorry," she said. "I wasn't really prepared for guests. I don't usually have guests."

"It's fine," I said. "Your place is quite charming."

"Please. It's a dump."

"No. It has real character."

"Well, thanks," she said. She handed me a glass of red wine. The wine matched the color scheme of her room, all purples and reds and dark magentas.

Just then, she took the red scarf from her neck and hung it up on a coat rack by the door. She moved around the room, apparently busy with things. She continued to move around me, and I watched her. She pulled off her leggings, unselfconsciously, just as I imagined she would do if I were not sitting there on the bed watching her. Then she looked at her reflection in the mirror. She pulled her dreads back up tight into a knot on the top of her head. She stood close to the mirror and rubbed at the eyeliner in the corner of her eyes.

Then she saw me watching her. She smiled.

"Let's smoke!" she said.

"Okay," I said.

She opened the window first, then sat next to me on the bed. She raised one knee up, and the other leg dangled over the side. Maybe she didn't know, but I could see almost all the way up her skirt. I liked it but I smacked her knee anyway.

"Act like a lady," I said.

"Oh, sorry," she said, but she didn't seem embarrassed at all.

She curled both knees up onto the bed, and knelt to the side.

She had a joint and a lighter in her hands. She brought the lighter to her mouth, and for a moment the flame lit up her face. She protected the flame with her other hand, as if we were outside on a windy day. A habit of hers, no doubt.

"Here," she said and she passed me the joint.

"Alright," I said. "But if I start laughing uncontrollably, or start shouting profanities, it's your fault."

"I accept full responsibility," she said.

I put the joint to my mouth, and I looked her right in the eyes. I saw my reflection in the lens of her glasses. I saw the little red cherry at the end of the joint. I think I saw the light reflected in her eyes, too. Reflections and reflections of light.

She smiled and exhaled.

"You like corrupting me, huh?" I said.

"Of course," she said.

"Pervert," I said and I passed the joint back to her.

"You have no idea."

"Oh, really? What else are you going to show me?"

She shook her head from side to side but refrained from speaking for a minute.

"No," she finally said. "Not really. I'm pretty vanilla."

"That's okay," I said. I inhaled. "I like vanilla. Of course, I like chocolate better but vanilla isn't so bad."

"You do know that it's a figure of speech, right?"

"Yes, Cosima," I said. "I know what it means."

She put her hands up in an act of surrender. "Just checking," she said. She still clutched the lighter in her hand.

I looked around her room again.

"You know what?" I said.

"What?"

"Your house feels like Christmas."

"What?"

Then she looked around the room, too.

"Oui, oui," I said. "It definitely feels like Christmas in here, like a timeless, cozy winter holiday."

"Yeah, I can see that. Is that a good thing?"

"Are you asking me?"

"Yes. Who else?"

"Well, in my opinion, yes, it's a good thing. Oh! You know what would be perfect? If you had a fireplace!"

It seemed like a magnificent idea at the moment.

"A fireplace? Really?" she said. She exhaled. "What about a bearskin rug?"

"Oh! Even better!" I said. Then I realized she was being ironic. "Don't make fun of me, I was giving you a compliment."

"I'm being totally serious," she said. "Next paycheck, I'm getting a bearskin rug. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"Maybe."

"You'd just love to take me on a bearskin rug, in front of a fireplace, just like in those romance novels."

She tried to act cool, but I could see that she was imagining it, as much as she was making fun of it, she was also imagining it, and liking the idea. She exhaled again.

"Bien sûr," I said quietly.

 _But I won't be here for your next paycheck_ , I thought. It was a sad thought.

Maybe she thought the same thing, because a shadow crossed her face, followed by a flash of panic. Then she was kissing me. Then she was pushing me back onto the bed. I had a strange sensation of falling, even though I was already lying down. I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I was hoping to find some visual anchor there.

Then Cosima was over me, moving with the grace that was all her own. She knew all the moves to this dance. She kissed my ears, and my neck, and my collarbones, and my mouth. I tried to participate, but I was in awe and I was spinning.

I was surrounded by her existence — her photos on the wall, her desk and all of it's clutter, her clothes and her piles of shoes. Her accessories were spilling out of a jewelry box, which sat in front of the mirror. The mirror was lined with postcards from far away places. I thought I even saw a postcard of the Eiffel Tower. I wondered who had sent it to her. I laid in her fluffy bed, with all of its pillows, and each one smelled like her.

She slipped my skirt off and kissed me on my thigh. I shivered. I had a feeling that my shivers would soon get deeper, amplified by this place and its warmth. I had a moment's premonition that these tremors signaled something bigger.

I placed my hands on her head. Her dreadlocks scratched against my fingertips. I grabbed her by the ears and pulled her up to my mouth. When she leaned over me, I was surprised to find her face glasses-free.

 _So this is what you really look like_ , I thought. I stared.

I felt like I was seeing her for the first time. She was beautiful. She fit this place, this room, exactly. And somehow, I felt myself fitting into it, too. Slipping into it slowly, but not quite yet.

I hugged her and kissed her for a long time. I was happy to do that much. I hugged her as tightly as I could. She still wore her black tank top. I pulled at the straps of it.

And then she started moving her hips against mine, and I felt my desire rising up. She slipped me out of the rest of my clothes, until I was laying on the bed next to her, completely naked.

The only light in the room was a small lamp. It cast a weak yellow light across us. I saw my own naked body in heavy shadows and I saw her face, naked in its own way. We both became momentarily uncanny — not really ourselves — in those shadows.

 _Or maybe it's the exact opposite_ , I thought. _Maybe this is who we really are._

She kissed me all over. She must have known I was shaking. She must have felt it. Even if she couldn't see it, she must have felt it.

Maybe that is why she slipped her hand between my legs suddenly, to give me some release. She closed her eyes when she touched me. She closed her eyes and moaned to herself. I already knew what that meant. That meant I was wet and she liked it.

I thought she meant to give me some release, but I was wrong. She moved her hand in long, languid strokes, never going anywhere fast, but going everywhere slowly. I squeezed her arm and I moved against the bed and the pillows beneath me. I felt for a moment, that I was flirting with the bed, and the room, and the space — as much as I was flirting with Cosima. I was flirting with her life here. I was carving out my own place, my own existence within hers.

 _Oh, no,_ I thought. _This is too dangerous. This is a dangerous dream I'm dreaming._

"Cosima," I said.

She looked down at me and smiled. I touched her face.

"Are you real?" I asked. I knew it was a stupid question. I wished I could take it back. I was happy when she furrowed her brows — not in a grimace, but in a smile, like the way an adult does when a child asks a question that everyone knows the answer to.

"Yes," she whispered.

Her face was so close to mine that I could only make out her mouth and her nose. Then she kissed my forehead.

"Prove it," I said.

She laughed softly. Then she grabbed my hand. She kissed my fingers.

"I'm right here," she said. "How can I prove it?"

"I don't know," I said. "Pinch me or something."

She grinned and moaned. "Mmmm, okay," she said.

Maybe she thought I was playing. I don't think she knew how serious I was. Either way, she was soon at my breasts kissing and biting them. I was sure that all those little bites would leave marks on me for days — marks that would last long after I had to leave her. I arched my back. I pushed myself against her. I was begging to be bruised.

Then she moved further down. Then she pushed my knees up and apart and settled herself between them. I trembled in anticipation. She bit the inside of my thigh. It sent a tremor out that shook my whole body. She bit my other thigh, too, and then…

The way she looked at me is indescribable. Her face was in shadows, but I could see that her eyelids were heavy. She licked her pale lips and then she kissed me there. She did it slowly, like the way she had touched me before. Her tongue was hot and soft and so sure of itself. She did not rush. Her moves were calculated and deliberate. This was not some foreplay to be hurried through to get to an end game. This was the end game.

I kept scooting myself closer to her. I kept shifting my hips this way and that, but she continued on in her set rhythm. Each time she took my clit into her mouth, she would suck and lick and then let me go. Each time was another tremor, shaking me down, dismantling me and all my pieces. Then she would start again. I was being disassembled, brick by brick.

The pressure was building — it was a tightness in my hamstrings and abdomen, and the muscles deep within my pelvis that I had no names for. I knew something big was coming.

In the yellow light of the room, she was making me fit. She was cutting out a place for me, as if to say — here, right here — this is where you belong. And I felt another space, a space in my chest that was also being carved out for her.

The thought of it sent me into a sort of panic.

"Cosima!" I said. It was almost a shout. "Come here!"

She did as I said. When she was over me, I clung to her. I wrapped myself around her. I pulled her down and held her closely against my chest. I ran my hands over her hair and her back. I was testing all the ways in which she might be real.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked into my shoulder. I heard a mix of disappointment and concern in her voice.

 _Yes!_ I thought. _If you don't stop you will make me love you and I can't stand the idea of it!_

"Non!" my mouth said. "Non! I just...I'm just..."

I had no words, especially in English. I had as much clarity as a cloud of dust.

She looked down at me. She wiped a tear from my face.

 _Where did that come from?_ I thought. _Oh god, am I crying?_

I was embarrassed and aroused. It was a confusing combination. But the expression on her face was not one of pity, it was one of pure adoration.

"Don't worry, Delphine," she said. She whispered it. And then she added, very, very softly, "I love you. Don't you know?"

There they were. Those little words that shook me down to my foundation.

I nodded my head vigorously.

"Oui," I said. "Je sais. Je sais."

She smiled at me. She wiped another tear from my cheek. "What does that mean?"

I hugged her and closed my eyes. "It means...je t'aime, Cosima."

After I had said it once, it just kept coming out of my mouth, over and over again. I said it between kisses. I said it when she reached her hand down between my legs. I said it as she rocked against me in a furious motion. Over and over.

It was the earthquake I was waiting for. Before she had said those words, I was still malleable, not quite solid. I had been between forms. But now, everything had settled and become irreversible. She had become part of my life, and I had become part of hers.

She collapsed onto me and I held her there. We breathed together. I still clung at her skin, and her shoulder blades and the slope of her spine.

She became still and heavy on my chest. We were quiet for a long time. I hoped she didn't regret saying what she had said. I hope it hadn't been false, a moment's exaggeration. But then again, I knew it hadn't. I knew she had meant it.

"Don't leave me, Cosima," I said.

She propped herself up then, and rolled over onto her side.

"How can I leave you?" she asked with a smile.

"I don't know."

"This is my house," she said softly. "And my country."

"Right… Of course."

She touched my cheek. Then I saw the smallest hint of a tear. "You're the one who's leaving me."

"I know," I said.

That was somehow the only thing I could think of to say.

She looked down at the deep red blanket. She ran her finger along it's quilted seam.

"I'm sorry," I added.

Then she got out of bed quickly. I got the impression that she didn't like where our conversation was heading.

"I'm going to get some water," she said. "Do you want anything?"

"Non."

She went into the bathroom. I rolled over onto my side to wait for her. I buried my face in her pillow and pulled the blanket up over myself. She was gone in the bathroom for a long time. I waited patiently for her for as long as I could, but finally, I dozed off to sleep in a sea of her Cosima scent.


	18. Chapter 18

"Delphine?" she said. "Are you awake?"

I heard her voice distantly, half asleep. In my dreams her voice had a mass, like that of a dandelion, and it floated over me until it landed on my ear.

I woke up, sort of.

"Delphine?" she said again.

The room was dark. The light was off. I couldn't see her face, but I felt her breath very close to my cheek. She was laying right next to me on the bed, and facing me in the dark. I felt the heat of her body radiating beneath the blanket. Almost as a reflex, I reached my hand out.

I touched her bare skin.

I woke up some more.

"So you are awake," she said.

"Yes," I said.

Then she was quiet, but I could hear her thinking. I could hear it in the way she didn't breathe and she didn't move.

The room was quiet, too. The window was open, and a draft blew across my bare shoulders. Someone outside laughed, very far away.

"What is it?" I asked. I shifted my body over to hers.

She was completely naked.

And, suddenly, I was completely awake.

"It's nothing," she said. "You're still half asleep."

"Non," I said. "Tell me."

My hands were finding their own way through the blankets and over to her body. Then I found her stomach. She took a deep breath. I still couldn't see her face. I couldn't believe how dark her room could be.

"Delphine?" she said.

"What?" I said.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" she asked after a moment's hesitation.

I giggled sleepily. "Do you?" I asked but my words were heavy.

"I don't know," she said. "I didn't before. I mean, I used to think it was all bullshit."

"And now?" I said.

She got really quiet again. She reached her hand out to my face, and it landed awkwardly on my chin. She moved it up, tenderly, until she was stroking my cheek.

"Do you remember when you said 'leucistic' at the aquarium?" she said. She tried to imitate my accent on _leucistic_.

"You asked if Claude was leucistic or albino?" she continued.

"Yes, I remember," I said. I blushed in the dark.

 _Is that what I really sound like?_ I thought.

"Anyway," she said. "I think I kind of fell for you, like, right at that moment. Like, everything after that was out of my hands. Like, I didn't have a choice in any of this. Is that what people are talking about when they talk about love at first sight?"

"I don't know," I said. "I guess so."

We were silent. Another draft crept in and pushed me further into Cosima's body space.

"You must think I'm a real cheese ball," she said.

"Non," I said. I yawned. "Do you remember when you explained the origin of the word 'alligator' to those school kids?"

"Yes," she said and she laughed from her belly. I felt the muscles move under my hand.

"I think I fell for you then," I said. "So I'm even worse than you are."

"You did not," she said. She was still chuckling.

"I did," I said. "I swear! I couldn't stop myself. I just wanted to talk to you. And then after I talked to you, I wanted to see you again. It was like a snowball, I guess. Once I made that first push, it just started rolling down the hill, you know?"

"Hmm," she said thoughtfully. The sound of it buzzed through the room, or maybe it just buzzed through me. "Like a snowball."

"Maybe that is what people are talking about," I said. "Maybe you don't actually fall in love at first sight, but you feel a spark, a desire to set things in motion."

"Yeah," she said. "That sounds about right."

"And, then, if you are lucky, and things go your way, the other person has also been rolling their own snowball with you. And then, you find yourselves at the bottom of the hill with two big snowballs, and you think, oh my god, we are in love."

She giggled then. She pushed her body right up against mine. She kissed my ear.

"So," she whispered. "What you're saying is, it's less love at first sight, and more love at first snowball?"

"Yes," I said. "I guess so."

"I like that," she said. I could hear the smile in her voice.

"But the sad thing is, snow has a way of melting, doesn't it?"

I thought of the tears I had cried, when I had asked her not to leave me, or rather, when we both realized I was leaving her... that there was no way around it.

"That is sad," she said. She swallowed loudly. "And snow doesn't travel well."

I felt her finger wandering, pensively, from my shoulder to my elbow and back.

"Yes," I said. "But even if distance wasn't a problem, even if I could stay with you, no one knows how long love will last."

"That's true. Hypothetically, let's say that you moved to San Francisco... hypothetically."

"Yes," I said. "Purely hypothetical. Got it."

"Let's say you moved here, and because you wouldn't have a place to stay, you would have to move into this tiny shoebox with me, and we'd be unrealistically happy for, like, a year. It would be a year of bliss."

"That sounds nice."

And the truth was, I could see it. I could see us living together, cooped up in that Christmas shoebox of an apartment, and being happy together — perhaps on a bearskin rug.

"Yes," she said, "And if we are lucky, then we'd be, like, crazy happy for even longer than a year. Maybe for several years. But then, we'd get two cats, and then we'd argue over the cats."

"Wait… Why would we argue over the cats?"

"I don't know," she said. "It's like having kids, we have to feed them and clean them and take them to the doctor."

"I see."

"Anyway," she continued. "Between our cats and our theses, we wouldn't have any time for each other. We'd start reading books in bed, and we'd stop having sex and then we'd find ourselves at the bottom of the hill in the middle of lesbian bed death summer and wonder where our snowballs went."

"Wow. That is pretty bleak. I should just leave right now."

"No, no. I have a point, I promise."

"I'm listening."

"So, instead of all of that drama, we get to keep our snowballs," she said.

"I don't follow."

"Isn't it better," she said, "to just live in this moment? To just feel love when our love is the biggest and then separate before it has a chance to melt?"

"Hmm," I said. "Except that, not everyone's love melts. Your apriori supposition is that everyone's love will dissolve over time. But, I don't think that's a fair conclusion. There are many cases that show just the opposite. There are, for instance, little, old couples who say that they fell in love at first sight, and they stay together for fifty or sixty years or more. "

"Also true," she said. I heard her lick her lips. Then she sighed.

"So it's a toss up. How can we know which one we would be?" she said.

"How can anybody know?" I said. "That's why it is mysterious, I guess."

She pinched my side at the word. Then she rolled on top of me. She pushed my hair away from my forehead, and I could finally see the hazy details of her face in the dim light of the room. I wrapped my arms around her ribcage.

"Two cats doesn't sound so bad," I said.

"I hate cats," Cosima said. "But maybe a dog."

"What kind of dog?" I said. "Because there are serious space restrictions in this apartment."

"Right," she said. "So, no Great Dane's?"

I burst into giggles, imagining Cosima and myself, laying in that bed, separated by an enormous Great Dane. She giggled at her own joke, too.

"Maybe not," I said.

Her chest pressed down on me, and I reveled in the weight of her. It was not a burden at all. Especially when she laughed. It was the happiest weight I'd ever carried.

"And, I hate to break it to you, but I do like reading in bed," I said.

"Me, too. But we'd have to make a rule about it. We couldn't do it every night."

"Or, we could read to each other... out loud."

I heard Cosima moan. I felt her dig her hips against my thigh. I felt a hint of moisture there.

"I like that idea," she said. "But only if you read me something dirty and in French."

"Bien sûr," I said. "With pleasure."

She moaned again. Then she kissed me. When she pulled away she was smiling.

"Say something nice to me," she said.

"En français?" I said.

"Oui," she said. Her lips pursed so cute when she said it.

"What should I say?" I said.

"I don't know," she said. She buried her face in my neck and giggled. "Tell me I'm beautiful, or something."

"Je ne veux plus jamais te quitter," I said. _I never want to leave you._

She giggled into my neck again.

"How do you say, 'I'm going to fuck your brains out?'," she said.

"Je veux t'embrasser un million de fois," I said. _I want to kiss you a million times_.

"It's sounds a lot more romantic in French," she said.

"That's because it is," I said.

I rolled her over onto her back. She cried out in surprise. I sat up and straddled her hips. I grabbed her wrists and pinned them to the pillow above her head.

I looked down at her body, stretched from wrist to waist and on display. I moved my hips around in circles. She arched up and pushed against my hands, even as she laughed.

"What did you call me earlier?" I said. I held her in place.

"When?" she said. Her ribs were still curling in laughter.

"At dinner," I said. "Something about baseball."

"A pitcher," she said. "I called you a pitcher."

"Non," I said. "You called me something else. What was it?"

"I have no idea what you are talking about," she said, but I knew she was lying. She was purposefully withholding the word from me. She was begging me to draw it out of her.

I was rubbing myself against her stomach. She moaned and started moving her legs, bringing them up until her thighs touched my back, and then putting them back down. The blanket was being kicked further and further from us.

Another draft came in, and made all the wet places between us that much cooler. Her nipples perked up. I wanted to touch them. I wanted to kiss them, but instead I stayed where I was, and I rocked my hips against her in a slow and steady rhythm.

 _A year of bliss,_ I thought. _Yes, a year of this would be a year of bliss._

"Oh, yes," I said. "Now I remember. You called me a top."

"Did I?" she said. "I don't really remember."

She giggled again, and squirmed beneath me, but her giggling was cut short as I began my slow and methodical experiment.

I let go of her hands, and began my exploration of her body. I was perverted in my gaze, wanting to see every part of her, and she let me. I tested her body, loading myself with empirical evidence. I gathered eye-fulls, and mouthfuls. I gathered sounds and smells and so many, many sensations of touch. And she gave it all to me, freely.

But there was a paradoxical relationship between the amount that she gave and the amount that I wanted. I was hard to satiate. She had said, that during intimate activities, a top likes to give more than receive, but with my face between her legs, that definition had seemed all backwards to me. She was the one giving herself to me, and I was greedily taking every piece of her that I could.

 _Is she right?_ I thought. _Could I ever get tired of this?_

It must have been exhausting for Cosima, to be my test subject. By the time the sun began to turn the sky gray, she had been reduced to moans and groans and sighs, until finally she laid on her stomach in a puddle of our sweat. I laid on her back, and I still wasn't satisfied, not completely.

"Delphine?" she whispered, but it was barely a breath.

"Oui?" I said.

But her sentence was all subject and no predicate. She was already falling into sleep.

I laid next to her and I watched her room turn gray, then blue, then golden. I hated the sun for rising and bringing me closer to my departure date.

As I began to sleep, I felt another dandelion swirl around my head and touch me on my ear. It landed like a whisper.

 _I love you, Delphine_ , it said.


	19. Chapter 19

I wish I could say that we woke up bright-eyed and bushy-tailed and ready to conquer the city. But, we didn't. We lounged in bed for most of the day. Like most new lovers, I suppose, we were much more interested in what was going on in that bedroom than anything in the outside world.

I had traveled halfway across the world, not to explore San Francisco, but to explore something much more exciting. All those maps and guidebooks I had brought with me had seemed useless. There was no map for where I had ended up, and no map for how to leave without a broken heart.

Eventually, Cosima did go out, to pick up some bagels and coffee. After she was out the door, I stood up for the first time that day. When I was sure she was gone, I snooped around her room. First, I looked at photographs on her wall and mirror. There was Cosima, whose face had already become so dear to me, and she was surrounded by strangers. I wondered if those strangers felt the same way about her as I did. Was it even possible for another to feel the same way about her as I did?

There was one man who appeared in the photos more than any other person. He had dark hair and nicely-trimmed eyebrows. I jumped to conclusions about him. A best friend? A gay best friend?

I touched the postcard of the Eiffel Tower. I remember Josh had bought one just like it. It was merely wedged between the glass of the mirror and the wood frame. My curiosity got the best of me. I took it out and turned it over.

 _You're missing out,_ it read. _I miss you and wish you were here. Love, Mark_

"Mark," I said out loud. I put the postcard back where I found it, as best I could. I hoped she wouldn't notice.

Next, I went into the bathroom. I picked up her toothbrush. I had an irresistible urge to use it. I wondered if she would mind, then decided she probably wouldn't. Next, I found a lovely purple robe hanging on the back of the bathroom door. I slipped it on, and it felt smooth against my bare skin. I rubbed the bottom hem between my thumb and forefinger. Silk.

 _Of course she would have a purple silk robe,_ I thought.

I smiled.

"That looks good on you," she said.

"Merde!" I said. "You scared me. How long have you been watching me?"

"Just for a second," she said. "Let's eat."

Eating those bagels in her tiny kitchen, with my cup of coffee, which she had poured into a ceramic mug for me, well, it felt like playing house. We talked about the weather, which was threatening to storm. We talked about the price of coffee these days, which we both agreed was exorbitant. But then, we both agreed it was totally worth it. We talked about bagels, and she said she preferred onion bagels. I wrinkled my nose and said I was more of a plain girl.

"Well, I wouldn't call you a plain girl," she said.

I knew it was a compliment, even though I hadn't showered yet and my hair must have been a disaster.

"No," she said. "Your hair is quite magnificent."

Then we talked about other things, like what time does she usually go to work, what time are her classes and labs? When does she find time to study? I was trying to get an accurate account of her daily life. Secretly, I guess I was trying to find out if there was enough room in her life for another person?

 _Is there enough room for me?_ I thought.

"Speaking of which," she said, but to be honest I couldn't remember the last topic of conversation.

"Uh-huh?" I said.

"There is this thing tonight with some of the other Evo Devo guys."

"Evo Devo?" I said. After a moment I understood. "Evolutionary Development?"

"Yeah," she said. "We are supposed to meet up at this bar. It's, like, not a big deal. I can totally blow them off, unless…"

She looked at me with raised eyebrows. "Unless, you want to meet a lot of nerdy PhD students."

"Sure," I said. "That sounds fun."

I didn't really think it sounded fun, but she seemed excited about it, and I just wanted to go wherever she was.

It was nearly four o'clock in the afternoon, but the rain clouds outside gave the impression that it was already evening.

So we took showers and got dressed. She let me borrow a simple black t-shirt.

"That looks good on you, too," she said.

And she was right. I looked at myself in the mirror. My face was completely naked, no makeup at all, but somehow, completely fresh. The extra humidity had made my hair a little wild, but I thought it looked alright. Cosima hugged me from behind. She kissed the base of my neck.

"A potato sack would probably look good on you," she said.

I worried, distantly, about my things, which were still back in my very expensive hotel room. I wondered when I would be able to retrieve them. It was already too late to check out for the day. I already had to pay for one more night's stay.

 _Merde!_ I thought.

"Should we stay at the hotel tonight?" I asked.

Cosima was still nibbling on my neck. She smiled.

"Sure," she said.

"I mean, I think there is an airport limousine that leaves straight from the hotel. So it would be the easiest thing in the morning," I said. I tried to keep my voice straight, like I was just the messenger, like I was just delivering information.

Her face quickly ran through several emotions, in this order: excitement, attention, realization, disappointment. My heart ran through them with her. She let go of my waist.

"Yeah," she said. "I guess that makes the most sense."

"So," I said. I was still trying to be matter-of-fact. "You might want to bring some clothes, or whatever you might need for tomorrow."

"Yeah, no," she said. She took a step back from me. She put her fingers to her forehead and turned to look around her room. "That's a good idea."

She shoved some things into her bag. She looked flustered, and I decided it was best to just leave her to it. I slipped on her jean jacket and waited by the door for her.

"What time are we supposed to meet everyone?" I asked.

She looked at her watch. "Like 10 minutes ago."

"Right," I said. "Always late."

"Kinda always," she said and she grabbed a black umbrella as we headed out the door.

To be honest, I didn't really want to meet her Evo Devo friends. I didn't want to share my time with anyone else. But, it was nice to get out of the house. We didn't get fresh air in the typical sense, but it had just started to rain, so the pavements and sidewalks were still giving off that newly-wet smell. It was fresh in its own way.

The bar was small, and decorated in 50's Americana. The group was sitting around a large table, leaning into their afternoon drinks and deep in discussion. When we walked in, they all looked up. Somehow, I counted, without realizing that I was doing it, that there were four men and only one other woman. And somehow, this fact bothered me.

 _Typical,_ I thought.

It was hard to know at the time why it bothered me. In the past, walking over to a table of men was a piece of cake. It was easy for me to charm my way into any conversation I pleased. This group, however, with their hipster t-shirts and thick-rimmed glasses seemed different, more intimidating.

 _Because they are smart,_ I thought.

It was a silly fear, because, well, not to brag, but I knew I was smart, too.

 _And because they are her friends,_ I thought.

They noticed Cosima first and they greeted her cheerfully. Then they saw me trailing behind her and their eyes grew wide in confusion.

"Everyone, this is Delphine," she said. "Delphine, this is everyone."

"Enchantée," I said.

One man in a bowtie, he pulled up a chair for me. His hair was slicked back with hair product. He fit right in with the Americana decor. I recognized him after a moment.

He was the one in so many of Cosima's pictures. His face was different in three dimensions.

"Ah, Delphine," he said. "I've heard so much about you. I'm Mark."

"Enchantée, Mark," I said. I reached out my hand to him. He shook it eagerly with a huge grin on his face. "I'm sorry, but I've heard nothing about you."

I looked at Cosima. She was blushing.

"Do you want a drink?" she said.

"Whatever you're having."

She left me alone with Mark and his pleased grin. "So you are from Paris, right?"

"Yes," I said. I couldn't bring myself to use the " _Oui"_ on him. Somehow, it had been reserved for Cosima.

"And how do you like the States so far?" he asked.

"Well, to be honest, I haven't seen very much," I said. "But it's lovely, the parts I have seen."

I watched Cosima's back as she leaned over the bar and spoke to the bartender. She raised two fingers, asking for two drinks.

"I've been to Paris," he said. "Once."

"Oh, really?" I said.

The bartender passed two bottles of beer to Cosima. When she turned around she smiled at me, and then she winked.

"Yes," he said. "Just for one week. It was really wonderful."

"Yes," I said. "It's a wonderful city."

But I wasn't really listening. I was watching her walk toward us. She slipped the cool beer bottle into my hand. Then she looked around. The only available chair was across the table. At first I was disappointed, and then I realized that I would get to look into her face, and I was relieved.

"Yes," he continued. "Cosima was supposed to come with me, but she ditched me at the last minute."

"Oh, really?" I said. I was suddenly interested in his story.

"I was broke," she said. "It wasn't my fault. Of course I would have gone if I could."

"When was this?" I interrupted.

"Two years ago," Cosima said. "Just before we started the PhD program."

"Two years ago?" I said. "Let's see. Where was I two years ago?"

 _I had just met Josh two years ago_ , I thought, but I didn't say it. _Wow! Did I really spend two years with him?_

"Just imagine, Cosima," Mark said. "If you had come with me, you guys might have met two years ago."

"I don't know about that," Cosima said. She tucked her hair behind her ear. "Paris is a big city."

"So is San Francisco," Mark said.

"Yeah, but…" Cosima said. She didn't finish her sentence. She took a drink of her beer instead. I watched her face. I was staring. I think I was in shock at the thought.

 _Two years with Cosima_ , I thought. _It could have been two years with Cosima._

And then, _That's ridiculous._

I decided, instead, to change the subject.

"So, why beer this time?" I said.

"I like to keep you on your toes," she said.

Mark kept talking about his trip to Paris, and I kept nodding my head politely. Cosima kept adding details to his story that he had forgotten to mention, as if she had heard this one many times before and remembered it better than he did. They were clearly old friends.

But every now and then our eyes would lock, and I'd think again that I might have spent two years with her instead of Josh, and I swear she was thinking the same thing, because her smile would twist into a sort of nostalgic melancholy, as if to say, "Shucks, we've already wasted too much time."

Her other friends would chime in, too, about everything they knew about France, or the French language, until everyone was saying random things to me in French.

"Où sont les toilettes?" Mark said. _Where is the bathroom?_

"Quelle heure est-il?" said another man. _What time is it?_

"Je mange habituellement le déjeuner à 12 heures," said the one in the thick-rimmed glasses.

_I usually eat lunch at 12 o'clock._

I had to laugh at their earnestness. They were clearly bringing all the French they knew, no matter how absurd.

"Those are all very useful things to know," I said.

"How is my accent?" asked Mark.

I glanced at Cosima. Her cheeks were a little pink, and she had already finished her beer.

"Pas mal du tout," I said.

"Thanks," he said proudly. "I studied for three years in high school."

"Well, it shows," I said.

Cosima laughed at him.

"Hey," Mark said to her. "I'd like to see you try!"

Then he looked at me and leaned forward. He covered his mouth with his hand as if to tell me a secret. "She's terrible at French," he whispered.

"Je sais," I said.

"Hey!" Cosima said. "I'm right here! And I can understand that much!"

Mark and I shared a giggle at her expense.

"Besides," Cosima said. "I studied Spanish!"

"Uh-oh," Mark said. "Someone's getting a little upset. Do you ladies need another drink?"

"Good timing," Cosima said.

Mark stood up. Cosima looked at me with her flushed cheeks. I felt warm, too. The bar was small and a little bit stuffy in the humidity. Everyone else in the group was wrapped up in their own conversations. Cosima and I shared a moment of silence, just smiling at each other.

"Do you know what I feel like?" I said. I reached for my purse.

"What?" she said. She leaned forward.

"A cigarette," I said. "Will you join me?"

"Of course," she said.

Outside, the rain was really coming down. We stood with our backs to the wall, huddled quietly under the narrow awning of the bar.

"Your friends are nice," I finally said.

"Yeah, they're alright," she said. "I mean, I guess."

"Mark is nice, too," I said. "He's your best friend?"

"Yep," she said.

"And, you told him about me?" I said.

"Double yep," she said. Then she brought her hand to her forehead. "Is that okay? I mean, did he embarrass you?"

"Non, non," I said. "He's quite charming."

"He's an ass," she said.

"So," I said, and then I thought twice about how to phrase my question. "Are you...showing me off?"

She looked down at her feet and laughed. Then she crossed her arms before she looked up at me.

"If I said yes, would you hate me?" she said.

"Hmm," I said. "If you were anyone else, maybe."

"I'm sorry. We can go, like, right now, if you want to."

"Non," I said. "Let's stay. It's fun."

"You said you wanted to know what my life was like, well, this is it."

"And it's great. You're really lucky."

"Hah!" she said. "Thanks, I guess."

"No, I'm serious. You're really lucky. You have a nice life, from the little bit that I've seen."

"Thanks."

Then she was quiet again. I finished my cigarette slowly and we watched the rain come down. An unlucky man ran down the street with nothing over his head except a newspaper. He cursed under his breath as he passed. Another couple walked by, snuggled up under their shared umbrella. They didn't seem to mind the storm at all. They were only focused on each other.

Maybe Cosima saw them, too, because I suddenly felt her hand wrap itself around mine. Her hand was damp but warm. It surprised me, in the best way. I felt my heart squeeze.

"But," I said as I stamped out my cigarette, "I hope we will have some time to ourselves tonight, if you know what I mean."

She leaned toward me, up on her tippy, tippy toes.

"Oui, je sais," she said because she is a fast learner.


	20. Chapter 20

Even though we both agreed that we would leave soon, we ended up staying. The hours passed with ease, because the conversation was good, and all the smiles were friendly.

Bottles of beer kept appearing in front of me, and I kept emptying them, and Cosima did, too.

Then we lined them up at the edge of the table and complimented each other on our accomplishment.

Finally, I was slumped in my chair and my face was hot, and my cheeks were sore with laughter.

Cosima's glasses were slipping off her nose. She leaned forward and placed her latest empty bottle in the row and then looked at me.

"Shall we go?" she said.

"Just a moment," I said. And I took the last swig of my fancy American micro-brewery beer. I placed in the long line of bottles.

"Good work," she said.

"Merci beaucoup!"

We were about to leave, but Cosima made a stop at the ladies' room first. I stood outside, smoking a cigarette while I waited for her. The storm still had not let up.

"The storm still hasn't let up," said a woman.

She was the only woman who had been at the table with us. She had appeared a little on the gloomy side, and we hadn't had much of a chance to speak with each other that night. Everyone else was still inside the bar.

"No," I said. "It hasn't."

"So, when are you leaving?" she asked.

"Tomorrow," I said. "Tomorrow morning."

"Then you might as well stay up all night," she said.

I laughed. It sounded like a great idea, but even in my drunken state, I knew it wasn't.

"I'm too old for that," I said.

"Yeah," she said. "Me too. Do you mind if I bum a cigarette?"

"Not at all. Please."

She took a cigarette and lit it up. She exhaled.

"So," she said. It was a nonchalant way to start to a sentence.

"Yes," I said.

"Do you love her?"

"Excuse me?" I said.

"Do you love her?" she repeated in the same flat tone.

"Yes," I said, though I wasn't sure if it was her business. I looked around for Cosima. She was still in the bathroom.

"Why?"

"Because," I said. I thought I would have more to say, but I couldn't think of anything. I was struck dumb by the question and the straightforward nature of this woman.

"Because why?"

"Just because," I said. I smiled awkwardly, as if to say, _I'm not sure._

The girl continued to stare at my face. It appeared as though she was willing to wait for as long as it would take for me to verbalize my feelings. I looked for Cosima again. I spotted her by the bar. She was saying her last farewells.

 _Oh, dear God,_ I thought. _Please come save me._

Thankfully, the woman didn't ask me any other questions. When Cosima came out, the woman hugged her — a little bit too long, if you ask me. Then she rubbed Cosima's arms and hurried out into the rain.

I tried not to say anything about it, but I couldn't get that woman out of my mind. We decided to take a taxi back to the hotel and order room service for dinner, but the whole way there, her questions echoed in my mind, "Do you love her? Why?"

 _Do I love her?_ I thought. _It's a simple question. Why couldn't I answer it?_

I looked at Cosima, who was gazing out her own window.

_How could I love her? In only two days?_

"Who was that woman?" I asked suddenly.

"What woman?" she said.

"At the bar, with your friends."

"Oh, that's just Josie," she said. "Why? What did she do?"

"Nothing. I just didn't have a chance to talk to her much. That's all."

"That's probably a good thing."

"Why? You don't like her?"

"She's fine. She's just...eccentric."

"Hmm," I said. I knew there was a back story there.

"What did she say to you?" Cosima said. She was staring right at me now and expecting my answer.

"Nothing, nothing. She just asked for a cigarette."

"Then why are you acting like this?"

"I'm not acting like anything," I said. I looked at her briefly and then looked away.

She made a face like, _Cut the bullshit._

"Alright," I said. "She asked me a very strange question."

"Like what?" Cosima said. She was very serious, even a little annoyed.

"She asked if I loved you, and then she asked why," I said.

Cosima rolled her eyes. "Just ignore her."

"How can I ignore a question like that? I felt like I was being interrogated."

I felt myself getting upset.

"Alright," she said. "Here's the deal. I wasn't going to say anything, but…"

"Oh, God. Please don't tell me she's your ex."

"No way! Are you kidding?"

I kept my lips shut. Now I was the one waiting for her answer.

"Anyway," she said. "I guess, she's kind of... in love with me?"

"Is that a question?" I asked.

"Look, she gave me a letter once."

"A letter?" I said. "What kind of letter?"

"Yeah, it was our first year in the program. We were all friends. I guess she got the wrong idea. She wrote me a letter. It was really sweet, if not a little stalker-ish."

"And?" I said with my arms crossed.

"And, I told her it wasn't ever going to happen."

"Why not?"

"Because… Well, because... she's not my type."

I was feeling some mixed emotions; relief that Cosima had not been involved with this Josie woman, annoyance that this woman had confronted me, and more annoyance at the memory of her lingering hug — right in front of me! Right in front of the whole bar.

"I don't like that woman," I said. "Not that it matters what I think. Do what you want."

"What does that mean? I am doing what I want."

I sat like a sullen child, with my arms crossed and my brows furrowed and my mouth extra-pouty.

Cosima touched my hand. I still didn't look at her.

"Are you jealous?" she said.

"Don't be ridiculous. I have no right to be jealous."

 _I'm leaving in less than 12 hours,_ I thought. _I'm just a guest star in this drama. A mere walk-on._

I felt Cosima's hand on my knee. She leaned over and whispered in my ear.

"I missed you."

"Missed me?" I said. "We've been together all day."

Her hand moved further up my leg. I thought about moving away from her but I didn't. My heart was still beating hard from my little temper tantrum.

"I know," she said softly. "But I _missed_ you."

Her hand was making its way up my skirt. I squirmed a little. I knew what she was trying to do.

She was trying to change the subject. I didn't want to be that easily manipulated, but my legs were betraying me. My body was screaming in response.

_Me, too!_

She tickled my inner thigh with her fingertip. Her hand was cool and it gave me chills. I had to bite my lip instead of moaning. I looked up to see if the taxi driver was paying attention. My heart started to beat faster, but not in anger this time.

If I hadn't been drunk, I may have pushed her hand away and blushed heavily. But seeing as I was very drunk, I turned my hips ever-so-slightly in her direction... and blushed heavily.

She didn't make a sound, but I knew what her sound would be. She wanted to moan into my ear, but she didn't. Instead, she started to rub me through my underwear. I couldn't stop my hips from moving with her. I turned my head away, staring out the window as she lulled wonderful sensations out of me. I bit my lip harder and watched the streetlights pass in the rain. Just once, a sigh escaped my lips.

_I love her, because…_

Then, the taxi pulled up to the hotel, and her hand was gone. There was a heat where she had been. I had been left aroused and dissatisfied.

… _because she is a tease._

It was hard to stand up, for many reasons. But she looked completely fine. She walked through the lobby, and waited for the elevator as if nothing had happened — as if we had just gotten back from a quaint dinner. She leaned against the elevator wall, and checked her phone messages. She didn't even look at me, though I'm sure I was staring at her. I'm sure I was silently begging her to finish what she had started. If there had not been another passenger in the elevator, well, I don't know what I would have done.

When we got in the hotel room, she was just the same. She plopped herself onto the bed on her stomach. I followed her into the room. I placed my bag on the dresser and stared at her back.

I was frustrated in several ways. The first of which, I wasn't sure if I should let her off the hook so easily for that whole Josie thing. She acted like it was no big deal, and hey, she was sharing my bed for the third night in a row, so I guess I had no reason to feel threatened. But then, she had also turned me on in the cab and then left me hanging. What was she up to?

She picked up the room service menu from the night stand. She propped herself on her elbows to read it, her feet dangling off the end of the bed. I walked up to her and nudged her foot with my knee — not gently.

"Get your shoes off the bed" I said — not politely.

"What?"

"Get your dirty shoes off the bed, dirty American."

"If it bothers you so much, you can take them off."

I sat on the bed next to her and did just that. I pulled at her high-top moccasins.

"Alright, Pocahontas," I said. But her shoes didn't budge. I sighed and then started to unlace them.

"What do you want to eat?" she said.

I didn't answer her. I was too wrapped up in her shoelaces to answer her. My hands weren't as nimble as I needed them to be. Finally, I got the shoes off with brute force. If I had hurt Cosima in the process, she didn't say a word about it. She just kept flipping through the laminated pages of the menu.

I touched the bottoms of her stocking-ed feet. I had hoped to tickle her. I had hoped to make her squirm or get annoyed or anything. No such luck. She kept right on looking through the menu.

 _So that's how it's going to be?_ I thought. _A challenge._

I traced my finger from her toe to her heel, and then from her heel, up the back of her calf, to the pit of her knee. She didn't move at all. Completely unphased. Then I moved my finger up from her knee to the bottom hem of her skirt. Still nothing.

"How about pizza?" she said. Her voice was completely neutral.

"Sure," I said. I pushed my hand up her skirt.

"Or maybe a hamburger?"

"Sure, why not?"

Then I kissed the back of her leg. Twice.

She sighed. But it was very, very brief.

 _Ah-ha!_ I thought.

"What about a ceasar salad?" she said. "It says here that it is the most popular menu item."

"Sounds delicious."

I pushed both my hands up her brown corduroy skirt, but I was very careful not to raise it.

Blindly, I searched for the waistband of her stockings. When I found it, I began to pull them down.

"The chef's special is the salmon steak," she said. "Served with herbed spinach salad with…"

She stopped talking when I kissed her bare thigh. She swallowed deeply, and then kept going.

"With herbed spinach salad and cranberry dressing," she said.

"Uh-uh," I said between kisses. I moved my hand up the inside of her thigh and she spread her legs.

 _So, she is playing along,_ I thought.

"What was the first choice?" I said. I had expected to touch her through her underwear, like she had done to me, but she wasn't wearing any. My knees buckled under me. She clutched the menu when I touched her.

"Huh?" she said. "Oh, uh, it was pizza."

"That sounds good," I said. I stroked her a few times, and then I searched for her clit. When I touched it, she pushed her hips down toward the bed.

"So, just the pizza?" she asked. Then she gasped a little. "Nothing else?"

"Non," I said.

Then, to my surprise, she reached for the phone receiver. I smiled to myself, but I didn't pull my hand away.

 _I love her because she is brave,_ I thought.

Instead, I started circling her clit even faster. She pushed against the bed in a smooth rhythm. I watched her body move beneath her baggy sweater. I knew her back muscles were flexing there. She held the phone to ear and clumsily dialed the four digit number for room service.

"Hello," she said. "Uh, yeah, I'd like to place an order."

I kissed the back of her leg again. Her foot kicked up next to me for a moment. I moved my finger away from her clit and started to stroke her. She pushed her hips back and up toward me.

"Yep, uh-huh," she said. "Yeah, I'd just like!"

I pushed inside her. She almost yelled the last word. Then she took a breath and started over.

"I'd like the margarita pizza," she said as calmly as she could. I was moving in and out of her now, in a slow but deep motion.

"Mh-hmm," she said. "Twenty minutes is fine. Yep. That's all. Yep. Okay, bye."

She hung up the phone abruptly. She tossed the receiver away from herself. She pulled a pillow close and buried her face in it. She let out a long moan and arched her back toward me.

Then she lifted her head and without looking at me, she said, "more."

"What?" I said.

"More," she said. "More fingers, baby, more."

I felt my eyelids flutter. I felt butterflies and fireflies combined. I felt a crazy excitement in my gut. Yes, the fact that she was making sexual demands was arousing, but the thing that had caught me off guard was something else.

 _She just called me baby,_ I thought. _I love her because she called me baby._

"Yes!" I said.

Slowly, I entered her again and felt her surrounding me. Somehow, I found myself lying on my side and she had curled on her side too, pressed right up against me. I moved slowly inside her and she pushed back against me, and we went on like that, like two spoons. I kissed the back of her neck and her shoulder and her ear.

Sometimes, she would tell me things like _faster_ or _slower_ or _harder_ or _right there_ , but these statements were sometimes attached to _baby_ , and that was when I thrust against the back of her.

Then came the knock at the door. Cosima grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it.

"Don't stop, baby!" she grunted into the pillow.

She reached for me, pulling my arm closer to her.

"Come here, come here," she said, rolling onto her stomach. I found myself on her back. We were both thrusting then, and also holding our breath.

Another knock at the door.

"Cosima," I said. "I should…"

"He'll come back," she said. "Don't stop!"

I didn't stop, because I could tell she was so, so close. I felt her whole body tense up. She pushed back against me, and then thrust down against the bed one last time. Without a sound, her whole body shuddered beneath mine.

There was a third knock at the door.

I tried to move, but she was still shaking with small tremors — the aftershocks. I shuddered with her.

"Go," she said. "Go."

I stood up and hurried to the door. I wiped my guilty hand on a towel and then hid it behind my back. When I opened the door, the bellboy was already halfway down the hall.

"Wait a moment," I said.

It was our old friend, Dan. He smiled when he saw me. And when he pushed his cart into our room, Cosima was lounging casually on the bed, with her knees tucked up neatly. She had turned the TV on and she was hugging a pillow.

 _How does she do that?_ I thought. _I love her because she is sneaky._

"Nice to see you ladies again," Dan said.

"Yes," I said. "You, too."

"Okay, we have one margarita pizza," he said, setting it on the table with a grand gesture. "Is there anything else I can get for you ladies?"

"No, no," I said and I shooed him out the door again.

When he was gone, Cosima smiled. She looked amazing in her post-orgasm haze, but the pizza smelled so good. My attention was torn. I stepped toward the pizza.

"I think I'm hungry," I said.

"Go wash your hands!" she said. "Dirty Parisian!"

 _I love her because..._ I thought. _Because she is cheeky!_


	21. Chapter 21

I had promised myself I wouldn't cry again. I had promised myself that I'd hold it together.

And, for the most part, I did. For the most part, I was happy. I was able to stay present and to forget about what was coming with the morning.

We sat at the table and stuffed our happy-drunk faces with pizza. I think we were both starving, because we didn't really say much. But when every slice was gone, Cosima leaned back in her chair with her hands on her stomach. She exhaled loudly and smiled. I copied her, exactly.

"Hello," she said. She brought her legs up so that she was sitting cross-legged in her chair.

"Bonsoir," I said.

"I feel like my friends were talking your ear off tonight. I didn't get a chance to talk to you."

"I know what you mean," I said. "But I had a great time. They are lovely, really. Except for that gloomy woman. What's her name? Oh, wait, nevermind. I don't want to know her name."

"Seriously, forget about her."

"Yeah."

I waved my hand in the air, dismissively. I was trying to brush the unpleasant thought away. I didn't want to give it any weight. I didn't want to give it any chance to lodge itself in my long term memory.

"But you liked everyone else? Mark gushed my ear off about how gorgeous you are, and I had to tell him I told you so."

"I like Mark. I can see he takes care of you. "

"Yeah, he does."

"Tell him to visit me, if he ever comes to Paris again."

"I will, definitely."

"And… I guess, maybe... you're invited, too."

"I wish," she said. Her smile faded into something more serious. "I really wish."

"Me, too," I said softly.

Then she shook her head once and sat up straight. Her smile was right back.

"I have an idea," she said with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"What?"

"Let's play a game."

"What kind of game?"

"Like, a twenty questions game."

"What is this? Speed dating round two?"

"Yes, exactly. But this will be more...interesting."

"More interesting, huh?"

 _What is she up to?_ I thought.

"Yes. First of all, you can only ask yes or no questions."

"Uh-huh."

She leaned forward.

"And if the answer is yes, then the answering player has to...oh, I don't know...take off one item of clothing."

She said this with her hands in the air, as if she was throwing the idea around in her head.

"I see. And if the answer is no?"

"Well, then, the other player would have to take off one item of clothing — to be fair."

"Yes," I said. "Above all else, we should be fair."

"Bien sûr. So, for instance, I would ask, 'Delphine Marie Cormier, do you have an older brother that is much older than you, who you don't talk to very often?' And then you'd say that, yes, you did, and then you'd have to take off one item of clothing. Simple, right?"

She looked very proud of herself.

"I see. And I could choose which item of clothing to take off?"

"Yes. That is completely at your discretion."

"Do accessories count?"

"Well, you might get by on a technicality."

"In that case," I said as I took my earring out of my ear, "My answer is yes, and now it's my turn."

"Okay. I'm ready. Ask me anything, except, you can't ask things that you already know the answer to, because, well, that would be cheating, and also the point is for us to get to know each other, you know."

"Cosima."

"Yes?"

"Stop talking."

"Okay, okay. I'm ready."

"Cosima, do you have a best friend named Mark?"

"Wait," she said. "You already know that."

"I know, but you already know about my older brother."

She crossed her arms and pouted for a moment.

"Alright," she said, taking off one earring. "Delphine, are your parents still married?"

"Oui," I said.

She took off her other earring.

"Are yours?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. She took off a ring.

"You have so many rings!" I said. "This is going to take all night."

She ignored me. "Delphine," she continued, "have you kissed more than…"

She stopped to think about it. She looked up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Have you kissed more than six, no seven, people in your life?"

"Non," I said.

She seemed surprised, but slipped off another ring anyway.

"Have you?"

"Yes," she said. She took off her last ring and then added, "I went through an experimental phase my freshmen year. And no fair repeating my questions. Think of your own questions."

"Yes, ma'am," I said.

"Delphine, are you happy?"

"Wait, do you mean, right now, or with life in general?"

"That is open to your interpretation."

"Then, I would have to say, yes, very, very happy, and no, sometimes not."

I took off a sock.

Then Cosima looked down at her own legs.

"Hey, you already took off my stockings," she said. "This is not fair!"

"And you're not wearing any undergarments," I reminded her. "I think we know who's going to win this game."

"Don't be so cocky. It's your turn."

"Cosima," I started. I tried to think of something that I really wanted to know, something that I couldn't leave without knowing.

 _Have you ever loved somebody more than me?_ I wanted to say.

_Have you ever fucked somebody better than me? Have you ever kissed someone better than me?_

But I couldn't say those things. Actually, I didn't really want to know the answers.

"Cosima, do you wish you had continued dancing instead of pursuing a career in the sciences?"

"Hmmmm," she said. "That's a tough one. I would have to say, about 70 percent of me says no, but, about 30 percent still says yes."

"So, no, then?"

I took off another sock.

"Alright. Delphine, have you always known that you are beautiful?"

"Are you trying to compliment me, here, or call me conceited?"

"I'm just asking a yes or no question."

"Well, then, I would have to say, 'Yes, I always knew that _you_ thought I was beautiful,'"

"Did you really?"

"Yes."

I pulled her black t-shirt over my head.

"How did you know?"

"I just knew," I said. "You kept looking at my mouth."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did. Just like this," I said. And I demonstrated by glancing at her lips a few times, which were pale and a little dry.

She rolled her eyes at herself. Then she licked her own lips. I tossed her t-shirt at her.

"It's your turn," she said.

"Let me think… Oh, I know! Have you always known that you're gay?"

"No."

"Really?" I said. "You seem so sure of yourself now."

"Remember that experimental phase I was talking about? It took awhile for me to figure it out, so take something off."

Cosima leaned back in her chair with a dubious grin.

I had a choice to make. It was either my skirt or my bra. I didn't like the idea of sitting in my underwear, so I went for my bra. But I took it off slowly. She watched me with dry lips. She licked them again. I tossed the bra at her, too. She squealed.

"Pervert."

"Delphine," she said. "If time and money weren't a concern, would you ever consider moving to San Francisco?"

"Oui," I said. I started to take off my pants. "Et toi, Cosima ? Would you ever move to Paris?"

"Oui!" she said. And she happily took off her sweater. "Obviously!"

We both laughed. I felt quite silly, sitting in that hotel chair in nothing but my underwear.

I wanted to reach out and grab her. I wanted to, but I didn't. I watched her laugh and curl herself up in the chair. She became quiet and she brought a finger to her mouth, and pressed it there, like she was thinking about something but wasn't sure if she should say it.

"It's your turn," I said.

"I'm thinking."

"I can see that."

"Okay," she said. Then she lowered her voice. "Delphine…"

"Yes?" I said.

"Do you like going down on me?" she said. Then she hid her face behind her arm and burst out into laughter.

I felt my face flush with embarrassment, and also I felt my legs and belly flush with arousal.

"Do you mean, like, oral sex?" I said.

"Yes," she said. Then she peeked at me from behind her arms. I realized she was even more embarrassed than I was.

"Then, yes," I said.

"Really?" she said. "You don't think it's weird?"

"Non," I said. "Well, maybe at first, but then, non. Why? Do you think it's weird?"

"No," she said. "But I've been doing this for a lot longer than you. I've had time to get used to it."

"Hmm," I said.

I stood up, because, well, I had to take off my underwear. She had won it, fair and square. I slipped out of them, and let them fall to the floor. She looked up at me from her chair. She was still hiding behind her arms. Then I took the two steps between us and kneeled down on my knees in front of her.

"Let me think about it some more," I said.

I uncurled her legs, until she was sitting straight in front of me. I pulled her arms down so I could see her face. She was wearing her skirt and bra still. She looked down at me with large, vulnerable brown eyes. I kissed both her kneecaps and she ran her fingers through my hair. Then she pulled me up to kiss her. She kissed me gently, twice.

"You don't have to," she said.

"I want to," I said. "Besides, it's my turn to ask you a question."

"Okay," she said.

"Do you want me to... go down on you?" I said. I suppressed a giggle at the expression.

"Yes," she said very softly, through her smile.

"Then take off one item of clothing," I said.

"What do you want me to take off?"

I knelt back on my heels, to get a good look at her. Then I reached for her face. She was confused. I slipped her glasses off her ears, folded them up, and placed them on the table.

"Good choice," she said.

She leaned back, and I pulled her hips forward, until they were right on the edge of the chair. I spread her legs apart. I had meant to just kiss her legs first. I had meant to tease her for a bit. But when I pushed up her skirt and saw her, my whole body lurched forward. I could not stop myself from kissing and tasting and licking her. She gasped. This encouraged me, and drove me forward, deeper into her. She grabbed my hair. She pulled me toward her.

She was aroused. I noticed it right away. And she was nervous. She was warm and inviting. She may have been shy a moment before, but then she was completely open, unselfconscious, ready for me. She tasted different than before, better. She lifted her feet, and having nowhere to put them, she put them on my shoulders. I didn't mind one bit. With her feet like that, I could feel her toes curl when I did something right, and I could feel her body shudder, too.

As I kneeled there, in front of her, I felt my body rising up, filling up with desire. I was like a soda can that had just been shaken, that was still being shaken. It was nearly painful — how aroused I was, but I didn't stop. I felt my body throbbing. Aching and throbbing.

She was pushing her hips up against me fast and hard. She squeezed her knees against my ears and I thought she was going to come.

"Wait!" she said suddenly. "Wait! I want to see you."

I sat up, out of breath. I wiped my face with the back of my hand.

"Wait, wait," she said again. She stood up, but I could see that her legs were unstable. She grabbed my hand and pulled me over to the bed.

She was flustered. She made me sit down. She quickly took off her skirt and bra. So fast I wasn't sure what was happening.

Then she sat in the middle of the bed, and she made me sit facing her, so that our legs were wrapped around each other and our pelvises were only centimeters apart. I could feel her body heat rising up against my belly and chest.

The awkwardness passed in a moment, then we were facing each other and she was kissing me and holding me. She was looking into my eyes and touching my cheeks and even though I was aching for her, I tried to pay attention to her face and all its smallest expressions; awe, desire, joy, shyness, and then, even sadness.

I knew that sadness. We both knew it.

We tried to kiss it away. I tried to smash it out of her face, and she tried to smash it out of mine. I squeezed at her shoulderblades and the backs of her arms.

"It's your turn," I said into her ear.

"What?" she said.

"Your question," I said with a smile.

I took her face in my hands. I looked into her eyes. I ran my thumbs along her eyebrows and then her cheekbones.

"Have you ever felt like this before?" she asked. "With someone? For someone?"

"No, never."

"Me, neither."

"Not even when you were stoned?" I asked.

She laughed and then she looked down. "No."

"Good," I said.

Then we embraced each other. I held her so tightly, I thought I would bruise her. I had promised myself that there would be no more crying, but I felt a strange mix of emotions in my chest. I felt the tears threatening to well up, and I felt the choked up feeling in my throat. I knew what was coming.

She slid her hand down my back. She began tracing circles with her fingertip. Instantly, my hips started moving in circles, too. With her other hand on my chest, she pushed me back.

"Lay down," she said as if she were saying, _Let me take care of you now_.

She laid me on my back, with my legs still loosely wrapped around her waist. She sat up on her knees. She looked down at me with that same un-nameable expression that I had seen the first time she had done this to me. She looked at me like she was going to devour me or destroy me. She was just looking at me and I was already exploding. I arched my back, and pushed my hips toward her.

"Cosima," I said. I was begging.

"I know," she said.

When she touched me, I thought she was going to disassemble me like she had done before. I thought I would fall apart, or melt away, or any of those things. But she didn't and I didn't. Instead, she opened her eyes and we started moving together, locked in each other's gaze.

She never looked away, not once. She just rode me like that, steadily, until all the pressure built up inside of me and was released. My orgasm was extensive. It trailed itself out along each of my limbs. And still she didn't stop. Still she didn't look away. She slowed only momentarily, and then she kept going. I reached for her, but she wouldn't come closer to me, she just kept going how she was going, because she knew I wanted it.

So I sat up. I sat up until I was sitting on her knees, and she was still inside me, and I was clinging to her. And she just kept going. I felt awkward and vulnerable. I felt needy and exposed, and also I felt greedy.

I kissed her forehead and her nose and her mouth. Her eyes were smiling at the corners. I think I saw a tear.

"Je t'aime, Cosima," I said to her. "I love you."

"Je t'aime," she said. I could not stop my own smile. She had caught me off guard. Her accent destroyed me. Her smiling face destroyed me, too.

It was a smiling orgasm. I squeezed her with my whole body. She became still for a moment, and then, to my surprise, she started up her steady rhythm again. My legs were shaking. My abs were shaking.

"Cosima," I gasped into her shoulder. "What are you doing to me?"

"Touch yourself," was all she said in response.

"What?" I said. Not because I didn't hear her, just because, well, that's just what I said.

"Touch yourself," she said again.

"Okay."

I reached between my own legs. I was so aroused! I'd never felt myself like that before. I hadn't even known it was possible. The lightest touch sent incredible shivers up my spine and down to my toes.

I cried out and she bit my neck. I cried out again. She rocked me roughly until I came all over her. And even then, she was relentless.

"Don't stop," she said. She pushed me onto my back again. She quickly switched her hands, and then she was inside me again. She was on top of me and our bodies were a hot, wet, mess.

I touched myself and she moved over me and inside me and I thought I was dying.

The next orgasm was less intense, and the next, even less so. Until finally, she was lying on top of me, her chest on mine, and her hips were lulling against mine. She kissed me with her open mouth. The last and final orgasm was barely an echo of the first, but it was still sweet — short and deliciously sweet.

She rolled off of me but I couldn't move. She laid next to me, holding my hand, both of us staring up at the ceiling. I'm not sure how long we were laid like that, but eventually, my breath grew calm, and I could hear her sigh next to me.

That's when I noticed the room was becoming bright with daylight. Maybe she noticed it, too, because she got up, and without a word, she walked away from the bed.

"What were you trying to do? Kill me?" I asked.

"No," she said. She poured herself a glass of water. She look a long drink.

"I was trying to give you a good reason to come back," she said.

Her words were like a punch in the gut.

 _I already have the best reason,_ I thought.

"You know I would if I could," I said. My words got caught in my throat.

"I know."

She turned her back to me. She set her water glass down on the table. Her head was down and she was silent.

"But, you know," I said. "I'm right in the middle of my thesis, and I can't walk away now, not after all of the work I've done. It's not that easy, you know?"

"I know," she said.

She picked up the bottle of unopened wine. She turned it around in her hands. She squinted at the label.

"It's a shame," she said. "Because we didn't have enough time to drink this."

She turned around to look at me.

"Do you want to drink it now?"

"No," she said. She carried the bottle to the bed and sat down next to me. "You should take it, as a souvenir."

She passed the bottle to me. I held it in my hands. The glass was cool. I ran my thumb over the embossed paper label.

"I couldn't," I said. "What good is a bottle of wine that I will never drink?"

"Why won't you drink it?"

"I can't drink it without you. Not after you tried so hard to pronounce the name when you ordered it."

She smacked my arm.

"Yes, I'll have a bottle of the Alpha Omega cabernet sauvignon," I said in my best American accent.

"Shut up!"

I looked at the bottle again. I could still feel its unfulfilled potential.

 _This is not over,_ I thought. _How can this ever be over?_

"Alpha Omega," I said out loud.

"The beginning and the end… Kinda of sad, isn't it?"

I passed the bottle back to her.

"Here," I said. "You keep it."

"Why?"

"Because, I have a feeling that this is just the beginning."

"What do you mean?"

 _I mean, I love you!_ I thought. _I mean, how can I get on that plane in a few hours and walk away from you and not know if I will ever see you again?_

"I mean, I don't think this is the end. So you keep it."

I felt tears welling up again, but this time they weren't sad tears.

"And…" I said.

She had to squint without her glasses, but I saw recognition in her eyes.

"And..." I continued. "You're not allowed to drink it until I come back."

"Until you come back?"

Her eyes went wide.

"Wait a minute!" she said. "Are you saying what I think you're saying?!"

"Well, like I said, I have my thesis, and I have to figure out my finances, and it probably might be six months at least, or maybe even a year, if I can get permission from the department chair…"

Then she kissed me. It was a really, really good kiss. It was a hot-teared, runny-nosed, messy kiss, but it was a good one.

"So," she whispered. She had my face squished between her palms. "This is just the beginning?"

"Oui, just the beginning," I said. She kissed me again as the sun came up.

She moaned into my mouth and pushed me back onto the bed — but only after carefully placing that bottle of Alpha Omega on the nightstand.


End file.
